


A Slim Case and Snowy Mountains

by CloverHighFive



Category: Supernatural
Genre: AKA, Blizzards & Snowstorms, Canada, Case Fic, F/M, FBI Agent Dean Winchester, FBI Agent Sam Winchester, Fluff, Hiking, Hunter Dean Winchester, Investigations, Kidnapping, Missing Persons, Monster Hunters, Mutual Pining, Mystery, Pining, Québec, Snow, Tattoos, Wendigo, Winter, but he gets to drive a, cabin in the woods, dean hates the cold, or - Freeform, or again, skidoo, snowmobile, snowstorm, so there's that, that's the question
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-28
Updated: 2019-12-28
Packaged: 2021-02-26 03:30:53
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 21,375
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22006228
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CloverHighFive/pseuds/CloverHighFive
Summary: A middle-aged couple disappeared, and there’s next to nothing to work with. Sam and Dean drive up across the border to investigate the case, that might have to do with a monster, but maybe just humans. [a/n - the fic is posted as a completed work but it's divided in 11 chapters for your reading convenience] [a/n2 - also available with afemale!ocinstead]
Relationships: Dean Winchester/You
Comments: 10
Kudos: 11
Collections: Cloverhighfive's Case fics, Cloverhighfive's female+male fics





	A Slim Case and Snowy Mountains

**Author's Note:**

> First, I want to thank my betas. Special and eternal thanks to [@dawnie1988](https://dawnie1988.tumblr.com/) on tumblr ([Dawnie7](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Dawnie7) on Ao3) and [@wanderingcas](https://wanderingcas.tumblr.com/) ([quiettewandering](https://archiveofourown.org/users/quiettewandering/) on Ao3) for all the precious help!!!
> 
> Second, this story is special to me.  
It’s my first SPN fanfic I started writing. It became the infamous wip that stays in your wips for years because of reasons including, but not limited to, laziness, no idea where the story is going, forgot about the wip altogether, and various choice feelings of inadequacy. Y’all know what I mean. Fist bumps all around.  
So I present to you my oldest wip, my first fanfic, finally conquered all the way into a finished story. And I'm quite happy I did :)
> 
> It’s also dear to me because I set it in Québec, Canada. Not only it’s where I live, but I love winter, and I wanted to send the boys up up up in the snowy mountains. Bring them closer to me, if you will. And bother Dean with the cold haha ;)
> 
> Lastly, this fic is also available [on tumblr](https://cloverhighfivewritestoo.tumblr.com/post/189925832797/a-slim-case-and-snowy-mountains).

**Chapter I – Four Peaks Mountains**

[Y/N] lived where winters were snowy and cold. It meant shorter days. It meant needing a bit of motivation to go out and play.

Which was not a problem for [Y/N], because she loved winter. Everything was quiet. The mostly white landscape made for peaceful scenery. Winter was more silent than summer: most birds had migrated, some mammals were hibernating, little animals like frogs were waiting for spring, frozen, hidden somewhere, insects just eggs waiting to hatch. Winter was crisp air and extremely bright sunlight – which was made the more brighter by reflecting on the snow.

[Y/N] liked hiking and she had her favourite mountain range, which she visited often. It was a nice spot pretty far from everything, with breathtaking views from the top and magical snow-filled trees along the way. To get there, you had to leave town, drive a couple hours and, right after the fourth tiny village, there was a road leading to the mountain range’s welcoming centre.

[Y/N] knew that place like the back of her hand. She knew Alan, a twenty-something guy who welcomed hikers in the centre. Opening hours were from 8 a.m. to 8 p.m., but Alan was there all the time. He was native to the village and, after studying a few years in the big city, he had come back to his beloved countryside. Alan had pretty much moved to the centre and made the place his living quarters. He’d even built an annex for himself. He’d decorated the place with all sorts of things he’d crafted, put some funky lights in places, a weird variety of books on a shelf, and had made the centre pretty cozy. If you were a regular hiker – or not – you might even find yourself sitting at the table in the corner or on the sofa with a shot of whiskey at the end of the day. Alan made the welcoming centre _welcoming_.

And welcoming it was, getting a very decent amount of tourists during summer and fall, and a winter boom at Christmas time and spring break. People would flock for hikes and some quite hardcore mountain cross-country skiing. There were a few cabins peppered in the mountains available for overnight stays, a few close to the centre, and nice lodgings in the village. When the area filled up, it got festive.

[Y/N] preferred when the place was more quiet, and each year she managed to take a few extra vacation days right after New Year’s, when people had gone back home to school and work. The mountains’ paths would be clear for her and her solitude, the observatory at the top – a mere shack to hide from the wind, or, if you must, the bench that’s a bit more to the left and more usable in the summer – devoid of screaming, tired children or smooching couples. The top was a place of contemplation, and she planned on contemplating to her heart’s content.

This time of year, days were short. The sun got up at around 7:30 and went down at about 4. This time of year, sunsets and dusks were brief, quickly bringing on daylight or pitch-black nights. One had to plan long outdoor days accordingly. This year, [Y/N] got lucky. The week after New Year’s, it was a full moon on Tuesday night, with clear skies. That meant she could start her day on Wednesday before dawn, taking advantage of the fact that a full moon shines so bright on the snow that it makes it easy to find your way almost as if it would be a very cloudy afternoon. That meant she could hike not to the top of the mountain where tourists usually go to, but the one she preferred. It was farther – nobody ventured that far in winter – but the view was simply spectacular. And it had been a while since she’d come for a hike, so she was even more delighted for the opportunity.

It was early afternoon on Tuesday. [Y/N] parked her car, got out and stretched a bit, breathing in the sharp, cold air, before entering the welcoming centre. Alan peeked from behind the counter at the sound of the door opening. He beamed. “Ahhh! [Y/N]!! Wow, long time no see!!” He went around the counter and gave her a big bear hug. “How was your drive? Not too bad? It’s super cold these days. But it’s supposed to get warmer tomorrow. So glad to see you! How are you? How was Christmas?” [Y/N] laughed and hugged Alan back. “It’s great to see you too! It _has_ been a while, hasn’t it? How long?” “Haha! I’d have to check my registration book. But I think it was May.”  
“Wow, O.K. I didn’t realize.”  
“Been busy?”  
“Yeah, my mom got an operation – she’s fine – and I had to take care of dad and the house, plus hospital stuff.”  
“Oh you have to tell me. Let me get you some tea. You want some tea?” [Y/N] smiled, “Yeah, tea would be good.”

Alan and [Y/N] settled on the couch with their tea and chatted away, exchanging news. Alan had had a great Christmas, filled with lots of tourists; they even got a huge bonfire going in the clearing behind the church on New Year’s, complete with music and fireworks. Suddenly, Alan’s expression became somber. He spoke in a low voice, as if he wasn’t sure he wanted to breach the subject. “It would have been perfect had it not been for the tragic incident...”  
“What tragic incident?”  
“Oh, you didn’t hear?”  
“No... Something happened? Nothing ever happens here. My gosh, what happened?” She looked at Alan’s sad expression. “Wait... don’t tell me somebody died. No.”  
“No… Maybe…” Alan took a deep breath. “Actually, we don’t know. They just… not vanished, but, they’re missing. We looked everywhere, we couldn’t find them.”  
“They went missing on New Year’s? The bonfire night?”  
“Yeah.”  
“No...”  
“And we found nothing.” Alan’s gaze seemed to get lost in a horizon that wasn’t there. “And I checked around in the mountains, and I’ve found nothing. The police checked, they found nothing.”  
“Did you know them? Or were they tourists?”  
“Actually… they’re my aunt and uncle.”

[Y/N] and Alan sat in silence. [Y/N] didn’t know what to say, except a dull, “That’s horrible. I’m sorry. After what happened to your parents, too.”  
“Yeah. Thanks.”  
Their tea was getting cold. The rays of sunlight coming in by the window made blinding illuminated lines on the floor.

Alan changed the subject. “So of course you’re here for a hike,” he said, half to himself.  
“Yeah...” mumbled [Y/N].  
Alan looked at the blue sky outside the window, breathed in like he was waking up, and offered, “You know, I can lend you a gun.”  
“What?”  
“Yeah. I mean, nobody found anything, but if it makes you feel more secure... Even if you shoot in the air, with the echo around here, that type of sound will travel. So even if you miss whatever’s attacking you, we’ll hear, so we’ll know and we’ll come to your help.”  
“A gunshot? What about avalanches?”  
“Nah, the forest is too dense, you should be fine.”  
“But how can you come to my help, you know, fast enough? There’s a lot of mountain, and, like you said, the forest is dense.”  
Alan smiled. “Snowmobiles, [Y/N], snowmobiles.”

**

Sam and Dean were on the road. When they’d left the bunker a few days before, it was rainy yet warm. Now, the sun was shining bright, but the scenery outside suggested they were headed to Santa’s house. Sam was looking at his phone. Dean reached for his sunglasses. “Man, I can’t believe we’re going that far up North. Why are we going there again? We could be saving people in California instead. You know, babes in bikinis.”  
Sam sighed. “Two people are missing, without a trace, in a village where nothing ever happens – at least, according to the Internet.”  
“That’s thin.”  
“Half our cases are thin, Dean.”  
“People disappear without a trace all the time.”  
“Dean.”  
“Yeah, yeah.”  
“Look, we don’t choose where people need saving.” Sam looked around at the blindingly white view, put on his sunglasses, and added, “We have our winter gear, it’s fine.”  
“For the good it’ll do. We don’t have the rest of our gear, except a gun each, cause of stupid customs. Urgh.”  
“You’re welcome. I had to hack deep to get us clearance for those.”  
Dean pursed his lips. “Besides,” he took the scenery in and gestured to it in general, “Sam, I don’t think this is winter. I’m pretty sure it’s Narnia.” He turned up the heat, “Freakin’ Canada.”  
Sam sighed at Dean and went back to his phone. After a moment, he muttered to himself, “Uh, full moon tonight.”  
“Ahhhh we got ourselves a werewolf,” Dean beamed, then frowned. “Wait, no. When did the victims disappear?”  
Sam checked on his phone, “Um, two days ago.”  
“Damn. Unless we have a pureblood.”  
“At this point, it could be a lot of things, Dean.”  
“Dammit.”

Sam laid back and looked outside. “We’re going to hit the police station first. I made an appointment.”  
“What, there’s a police station in that hole?”  
“Yeah. There’s nothing around for miles and miles, and the place is pretty central to all the nothingness I guess. So yeah, they have a police station. It’s the provincial police, the Sûreté du Québec. Or, SQ.”  
Dean sighed, “SQ. OK. We’ll have to suit up as soon as we hit a gas station or something.”  
Sam popped his phone out again. “It’s fine, we have time. We could rent a cabin by the mountain just outside the village. It’s really cheap this time of year, it would be much better than our usual hotels, and we can change and head out to the police station from there.”  
Dean nodded. “Alright. Sold.” He drove in silence for a few minutes, and asked, “Wait. You made an appointment at the police station? Canadians don’t receive people without appointments? I thought they were nice people.”  
Sam answered, a bit annoyed, still looking at the scenery, “The FBI doesn’t have jurisdiction here. Without an appointment, we’ll get nothing.”  
Dean nodded, eyebrows raised. “Ah, Sam. Always prepared.”  
“Well I had to hack deep into the FBI to make us legit.”  
“Ah,” Dean added, as he punched Sam, “my favourite nerd.”

**

“So, I think I’ll take the cabin in the back,” [Y/N] said, as she stood up.  
“Alright. And you plan on going on which hike? It’s getting late,” Alan inquired.  
“Oh, no, I’m not going today. I’m going to go to Maria Peak, but I’m leaving tomorrow before dawn. Like, a good hour before dawn for sure.”  
“Oh, full moon and sunrise hike. Niiiice.” Alan stood up, picked up the tea mugs, “Come to think of it, would you mind doing me a favour?”  
“A favour? Yeah, what do you need?”  
Alan explained, as he put the mugs away in an adjacent room, “Since you’ll be out there on the path to Maria Peak, it’d be cool if you could call me from the cabin that’s a bit off the path halfway to the top, you know, the blue one. I can’t get cell reception out there and I want to know if the landline phone works alright. It’s hard to do by myself.”  
“Yeah, cool. Pit stop at the blue cabin. Check. Oh, and I think I’ll take that gun you offered.”  
Alan made a thumbs up, went behind the counter, took the registration book out and set it on the counter with a thud. He clicked his pen. “Let’s get you sorted, then. And after I’ll go get the gun for you.”

Alan was turning the pages in the registration book and [Y/N] rummaging in her bag for a credit card when they heard the low rumble of a car nearby. At the same time, they both looked up and around in the direction of the parking lot. They glanced at each other and walked to the window to peek out. Alan’s eyes widened, “Wow, check out that car. Chevy Impala. A vintage one. Sweet ride.” The car doors opened, and two very tall men got out. The taller one had almost shoulder-length, curvy light brown hair, sharp features and a delicate mouth. He wore jeans, and a big brown winter coat with a line of faux fur on the hoodie. The other one had short, dark hair, looked like he should have shaved this morning, which accentuated his strong jaw and high cheekbones. He also wore jeans, but looked cold with his hands thrust deep in the pockets of a black wool coat that would have been better suited for fall temperatures.  
[Y/N] took a sharp breath. “Wow, check out those guys!”  
Alan looked at her, surprised. “What?”  
“Oh, come on! _Look_ at them!”  
“I’m not gay, you know. You know that. You know. You know?”  
[Y/N] laughed without taking her eyes off the prizes. “I know...”  
The men didn’t notice them glued to the window; the taller one was showing something on his phone to the other as they were walking towards the welcoming centre.  
“Oh... You’re right, [Y/N]... They’re... geez. I could never compete with them. Damn.”  
[Y/N] nodded, eyebrows raised, “Ha! Told you.”  
“Oh my god, they’re here! Quick!”  
Alan and [Y/N] rushed back to the counter and tried to look casual.

The door opened, letting in a cool draft. The men approached the counter.  
The taller one greeted them. “Hi.”  
“Hi”, Alan answered back, “I’m Alan. Welcome to Four Peaks Mountains. I’ll take care of you right after I’m done with the lady, here.”  
The short-haired man smiled. “Of course, no problem. Please do,” and nodded at [Y/N] with a smile.  
[Y/N] froze, wide eyed. A ray of sunlight had caught in the man’s eyes and for a moment her whole world exploded in shades of green. The light dancing in his eyes…  
Alan cleared his throat. “[Y/N]?”  
[Y/N] turned to Alan and said, “But, Alan, um, why don’t you take care of these gentlemen first? I mean, I’m a regular, so I don’t mind.” She turned to the man who’d smiled at her. “You know, cause, I come here often.” She smiled at the man and looked back to Alan for confirmation.  
Alan was looking at her flatly but instantly regained his warm composure and smiled at the guests. “The lady has spoken.”  
The green-eyed man laughed softly, looked at his taller companion, and said, “Alright, then, if we must,” and, turning to [Y/N], “thank you, it’s very kind of you,” and, turning back to Alan, “we’re here for a cabin, if you have any available.”  
Alan was positively amused. “Man, the holidays are done, _everything_ is available. Well,” he gestured towards [Y/N] with his pen, “except the one [Y/N] is taking, everything is available. Your pick. I’ll show you a map – though you can also just look out the window and choose.” He pulled a map from under the counter anyway. 

“While you choose your cabin, under what name should I write you down?” Alan asked, as he positioned his pen in the registration book.  
“Sam Elliott,” said the tall one.  
“Dean Collen” said the other.  
“I’ll also need a method of payment.”  
Dean pulled out his wallet. “Of course. Here.” He handed Alan a credit card.  
“Thank you. And you’ll be taking which cabin?”  
Dean and Sam looked at the map on the counter, then craned their necks to look outside the windows. Sam pointed on the map. “Is this the yellow one in the back there?”  
“Oh, that’s the one [Y/N] is taking, sorry,” Alan pointed out.  
“No problem,” Sam said, “we’ll take the one here, the green one. We’ll take it...“ he looked at Dean, “two nights?” Dean nodded. Sam confirmed, “Two nights. For now.”  
“Alrighty then. Let’s write this down.” Sam looked at the big book on the counter and at the computer sitting at arm’s length. “You don’t use computers for bookkeeping?”  
Alan answered while he was writing, “Yes, but it needs electricity and we lose power from time to time, so paper is more reliable. I put the info in the computer afterwards. Plus,” he said as he looked up, “it gives a nice back-of-the-country feel to the whole thing, keeping it on paper.” He gave the men a warm smile and a wink.

“So what are you here for, may I ask?” Alan said routinely, adding, “Cause it’s pretty out of season now. We rarely get people right after the holidays. Business? Pleasure? Just passing through? Lost?” Alan and [Y/N] exchanged a look and a chuckle.  
Dean turned to look at [Y/N], “Well you have this lady here, [Y/N], if I got your name right. What are you here for?”  
[Y/N] smirked, “Pleasure.”  
Dean lifted an eyebrow in surprise, “Oh, really? In this cold? What do you do for pleasure in this cold?”  
“Hike up the mountain.”  
Dean raised both eyebrows, “For _fun_?”  
Before [Y/N] could answer, Sam interjected, “We’re here for business, actually.”

Now, Alan and [Y/N] both looked up in surprise at the men. They looked at each other, then back to the men in stunned silence. Alan ventured, “What kind of business?” Sam and Dean took a breath and looked at each other, but before one could answer, Alan said, “Oh I’m sorry. You don’t have to answer that. It’s just... nobody ever comes here on business. It’s very surprising.”  
Sam made a hand gesture and said, “No problem”, but offered no explanation. Dean went with it.

**Chapter II – The Police and the Villagers**

Dean threw the keys on the bed and went to the closet to unpack a few things. “Tell me why we didn’t question those two right away, Sam. Or at least, you know, break the ice. It’s a small place, Alan might know something.”  
“Because of [Y/N].”  
“What?”  
“They clearly know each other. She said she was a regular, and that she’s here to go hiking. She just got here – he was writing her in as we got there – so that means she’s probably not up to date with all the details. Places like this, everyone knows everything. So Alan might know some details he might not want her to know.”  
“Why?”  
“Cause he likes her.”  
“You got all that from our little chat?”  
“It’s all pretty obvious, isn’t it? Anyway, I thought we should question him alone, so he feels at ease to tell us what he knows.”  
Dean took his FBI clothes out. “Good thinking. Let’s suit up and hit the police station, since we have an _appointment_.”

Fifteen minutes later, the Impala pulled in the police station’s parking lot. The men got out, Dean still wearing that wool coat of his. “Damn it’s cold.”  
“Seriously, Dean, I brought you a big coat like mine. Why...?”  
“Ah, shut up,” said Dean, as he tried to bury his head in his shoulders and get his hands deeper in his pockets.

Inside, the vestibule served as a waiting room. There was a counter with a glass wall and the door to enter the station per se was obviously locked, only accessible with a magnetic card. The secretary at the front desk checked their badges as Sam was informing her they had an appointment with Mr. Martin. “I’ll be right back,” she said.

A few moments later, Sam and Dean were standing in front of a tall man named Ed Martin, who gestured to them to sit. “So FBI, eh? What brings the FBI around here?”  
Sam explained, “We have a similar case which is still open and we want to see if this is connected. It could help with our investigation.”  
“We could have sent you the file. You didn’t have to come all the way up here.”  
“Well, nothing like talking to people, seeing where it happened ourselves, right?”  
“Yeah, for sure, for sure.”  
“So, what can you tell us about the two people who disappeared on New Year’s?”  
“Guy Sirois and Gisele Girard. Ordinary folks. Guy’s got one brother, Steve, disabled. Guy and Gisele helped Steve’s family a lot. You know, it ain’t easy living on a cashier’s salary with a kid. Other than that, pretty ordinary folks.”  
Sam was taking notes. “OK, and where do you think we can find Steve? We’d like to ask a few questions.”  
Ed Martin’s eyes got wider. “Oh, I’m sorry! Steve has passed. His wife too.”  
Sam and Dean frowned.  
Ed Martin continued, “A car accident last winter during a freezing rain storm. Pretty tragic. The poor kid had to bury both his parents.”  
“Who’s taking care of the kid now?”  
“What? Oh, the kid’s all grown-up. He works at the tourist station in the mountains. Actually, he lives there. His name is Alan. He’ll be easy to find.” Ed Martin saw Sam and Dean glance at each other. He frowned. “You know him?”  
Dean said, “We’ve met with him briefly. We’ve taken a cabin there.”  
Ed Martin beamed. “Ah! You’ll like it, it’s a nice place.” His expression quickly changed. He shook his head. “Poor kid. Last year his parents, this year his aunt and uncle.”  
Dean pointed out, “But they’re not dead yet, that we know.”  
Ed Martin nodded. “Of course, no, that we know, they’re not. But it’s been two days, and we’ve found nothing so far. It’s not looking good.” He looked out the window. “Especially in winter. It’s not looking good.” He looked back at the men. “If you find something…”  
Sam answered, “Yeah, of course. That goes without saying.”

Back in the car, Sam was going through the slim file. “Not even a suspect. Car at their house, house empty. No sign of foul play. The disappearance happened during the New Year’s celebration party and pretty much everyone from the village was there, plus almost all the tourists. Everyone has an alibi.”  
“So nobody noticed their disappearance until when?”  
Sam kept reading the file. “Someone reported them around noon. They were supposed to have brunch at JayJay’s Diner with Jimmy Lessard and Kathleen Tremblay.“ Sam popped his phone out and looked something up. “They are their neighbours.”  
Dean drummed his fingers on the steering wheel. “OK. So that rules out a pureblood werewolf. Cause we have basically nothing and werewolves leave bodies and blood and it’s messy.”  
“Yup.”  
“We need to question the neighbours, and Alan too, and [Y/N].” Dean glanced over to Sam as he kept a straight face. Sam didn’t even bother to look at him. “Of course you’d want to question [Y/N]. Even though she has nothing to do with this.”  
Dean didn’t answer. He put his sunglasses on.

Sam and Dean went to visit Jimmy and Kathleen. Sitting on the couch, they watched as Jimmy brought them coffee.  
“Thanks,” said the brothers at the same time, sipping on their coffee while Jimmy sat by his wife.  
“I thought the Sûreté were investigating this. Why the FBI?”, asked Jimmy.  
Sam answered, “We have a similar case back home, we were wondering if these two were related. It might help us with our investigation.”  
Jimmy and Kathleen looked at each other, they seemed unsure.  
Sam added, “We met with Mr. Martin at the station, we have the clearance to gather information for our investigation.”  
Dean continued, “If you could tell us what happened, however strange it might be, it would help a lot.”  
“Strange how?” Kathleen asked, concerned.  
Dean explained, “Anything you might have noticed that you didn’t think was worth mentioning. Sounds, smells, things you think you saw but maybe you thought it made no sense so you brushed it off.”  
Jimmy and Kathleen still seemed shy.  
Sam added, “Look, we’re not from here – obviously – so you can tell us things you might not want to tell someone from here, for whatever reason. We’re not going to tell anyone, it’s for our investigation only. The cops here do their work, and we don’t interfere with each other.”

Jimmy and Kathleen didn’t seem to feel like talking. Dean decided on another angle and said, with a comforting smile, “Look. Why don’t you start by telling us about the party? How was it?” Jimmy and Kathleen smiled. The party was great, the biggest bonfire they’d ever had, set up in a crescent so everyone could be close to the fire and warm. They had brought marshmallows and it was silly, you know, grilling marshmallows in the dead of winter, and people were singing carols at the top of their lungs, it was a great night. There was even a few fireworks. They talked to Guy and Gisele a while and then went around talking with other people. The kids were making s’mores and someone had brought hotdogs. There must have been around 200 people there, counting the village and the tourists. They didn’t notice Guy and Gisele missing from the party, only the morning after when they didn’t show up for brunch at JayJay’s.

“Anything else?” Sam’s warm composure was always inviting and helped get people talking. But Jimmy’s and Kathleen’s expressions lost their glee. “No, not that I can think of. Nothing… strange,” said Kathleen. They didn’t look at each other but at their mugs. Sam and Dean knew there was more. Sam reiterated, “Look, again, we’re not from here, your secrets are safe with us.”  
Kathleen and Jimmy nodded at each other. Kathleen started, “It has nothing to do with the party though.”  
Sam nodded, “It’s OK. Anything can help.”  
Kathleen took a deep breath, held her mug tight. “It’s Guy. We know something we shouldn’t know. And… and when he comes back, we’ll be in trouble for telling you.”  
Sam made a hand gesture. “It’s OK, Ms. Tremblay – he pointed at Dean and him – American investigation. You’re safe.”  
Kathleen took a long look at Sam and Dean, and then her husband for reassurance. “People think Guy is so great for helping Steve, but he was not. Yes, he helped make mortgage payments after the accident, and he helped with making the house OK for a wheelchair. And he paid for the wheelchair, too.”  
Dean looked confused. “So, where’s the problem?”  
Kathleen pursed her lips. “Guy got something back for his …kindness. He… He was sleeping with Steve’s wife, Christine.”

Both brothers fell back into the sofa, mouths open.  
“Well,” said Dean.  
“Yeah,” said Sam.  
Dean ventured, “Do the spouses know they were being cheated on?”  
Jimmy and Kathleen shook their heads. “Not that we know” said Jimmy.  
“And how did you know?” asked Sam.  
Jimmy pointed to the window overlooking the house. “We saw them arguing in the kitchen. There was a BBQ that day and I’d come back to get more sauce, and I saw Guy get frisky with Christine, and Christine laughing and pushing him away, and the way Guy laughed, and the way Christine smiled... And then he kissed her and went outside.”

Back in the car, Dean was grumpy. “This is not a monster case. This is a human case. Cheating husband, stuff like that, these are motives for kidnapping, for revenge.”  
Sam asked, “But what about Gisele? She’s not the one cheating. Why kidnap her too?”  
Dean shrugged. “I don’t know. Maybe she’s the one who kidnapped him and she’s hidden somewhere going to town on him to make him pay. Who knows? But this has no monster element.”  
Sam couldn’t make heads or tails of this. “Why disappear with him? Why not just hide him somewhere and report him missing herself? Cause this? I don’t know. It’s weird.”  
Dean wouldn’t be shaken off his theory. “Look, maybe he slept with another’s wife too. I don’t know. But bottom line, no monster. No body, no blood, no missing heart, no weird symbols, no nothing. So. Human case.”  
Sam wondered, “But what do you want us to do then?”  
“Tell the police. There’s more to dig, I’m sure. But it’s not our turf.”  
“But, Dean, if Guy and Gisele are in danger, we can help.”  
“Dude. Not. our. turf. We can’t arrest anyone in the States, let alone here. That’s stuff they have to take care of. You know, clues, forensics, science stuff.”  
“OK, OK. Let’s just… Let’s just finish the interrogations, see if anything else turns up.”  
“God you’re annoying. Alright, you go talk to Alan, I go talk to [Y/N], we grab some grub and exchange notes.”  
Sam raised an eyebrow. “Seriously? Dude, you know she wasn’t even here two days ago. You know she has nothing to do with this. Dude. Really.”  
Dean only smiled. Sam huffed his annoyance with his brother as he turned to look out the window, shaking his head.

**Chapter III – Agent Collen and Agent Elliott**

Dean parked the impala at their cabin and headed to [Y/N]’s as Sam headed to the welcoming centre. Before knocking, Dean peeked in briefly to see if [Y/N] was there. He saw her sitting at the table, writing in some kind of notebook. He knocked, and smiled at her when she jerked her head up. She came and opened the door. “Hi, um… Sorry, I forgot your name.” She looked him up and down. “My, you’re dressed up.”  
Dean flipped out his badge. “It’s because I’m here on official business. It’s actually _agent_ Collen. Dean Collen.”  
[Y/N] was taken aback a little. “Oh. Oh?”  
Dean pocketed his badge. “I need to ask you a few questions. If you please.”  
[Y/N] nodded, but didn’t move an inch. “Yeah. Alright.”  
Dean stood there a second, wondering how she could stand in the cold in short sleeves, and not seem to be bothered by the fact that with the door wide open, the cabin was losing all its heat pretty fast. “Um, isn’t it cold?”, he said, gesturing to her naked arms, “maybe we should talk inside.”  
[Y/N] stepped aside and invited him in, but not in more of a hurry than if it was summer.  
Dean wondered if Canadians had antifreeze running in their veins. He made a mental note to ask Sam to check.

As usual, Dean was quick to take in the surroundings. The cabin was pretty much the same as his and Sam’s. On one of the beds laid a suitcase – only clothes – and a filled backpack, top open, with some space left to put more things in. Dean noticed a few flares neatly stacked to the side.

He pointed to the backpack and turned to [Y/N], who was closing her notebook and putting it away. “This your backpack for your hike tomorrow?”  
“Yes.”  
“You packed flares?”  
[Y/N] smiled. “If I get lost in the mountain, which I shouldn’t cause I’ve come here so often, but still, or if I am in trouble, I can use the flares to alert people.”  
“What people? There’s Alan and that’s it.”  
“There’s always people outside. The flare will be noticed all the way to the village.”  
Dean nodded. “Hm. OK. Good idea then.”  
[Y/N] smirked. “Why, thank you, agent, for your approbation.”  
Dean made a flat face, gestured vaguely, and mumbled.

Dean put his hand on the back of a chair. “Can I sit? I’m gonna sit. I can sit?”  
[Y/N] leaned on the counter, crossed her arms loosely. “Yes, by all means, make yourself comfortable.”  
Dean sat.  
[Y/N] pointed to him. “You can take your coat off, too.”  
As a reflex, Dean brought his arms closer, hugging himself. “Oh no thanks.”  
[Y/N] seemed amused. “You’d think a guy going around in a little fall coat at these temperatures would have a thicker skin. Hah. Suit yourself.”  
Dean pursed his lips. But he kept his coat. 

“So, [Y/N], you said you come here often, about every year.”  
[Y/N] frowned. “This is interesting.”  
Dean didn’t know what to make of that remark. “What is interesting?”  
“You’re here asking me questions but I just got here. I wasn’t here when things happened. I can’t be a suspect. And I have alibis.”  
Dean sat back, his arms still crossed for warmth. “You’re not a suspect. Not at all. But you know the surroundings, you know some people, you might be helpful to our investigation.”

“Alright.” She gestured to Dean. “You seem cold. Want something to warm you up?”  
Dean beamed. “Oh, yes. Anything. Please. And thank you so much.”  
[Y/N] chuckled and put the kettle on. She opened the cupboard. “We have coffee, tea, herbal tea, Ovaltine – wow I don’t even know anyone who drinks that anymore – and hot cocoa.” She turned around, eyebrows raised, waiting for Dean to answer.  
“You know what? Hot cocoa sounds nice. Do you have mini marshmallows?”  
“Let’s see.” She took the packs out, picked one. “Hah! Lucky you! This one here has the marshmallows included! Nice.” The water must have been already warm, because the kettle was already boiling. She prepared his cup and gave it to him.  
Dean blew on the steamy beverage and sipped it cautiously. “Ahhh. That’s so good. Thanks.” He looked up at her. “You’re not having anything?”  
[Y/N] sat opposite Dean. “Nah, I’m good.”

Dean sipped his hot cocoa. He took his time.  
“Agent?”  
Dean jumped a little. “Yeah?”  
“I thought you had questions. I’m glad you like the hot cocoa, but I got things to do and I gotta get to bed early. I leave before dawn tomorrow.”  
Dean put his mug down. “Yeah. Sorry.” He unzipped his coat. “OK. So. You come here every year, then.”  
“I come a few times a year. Usually once every season.”  
“So you know the place, you know the people.”  
“Hmmm… Yes, a bit. I know Alan. I know the waitresses at JayJay’s. I recognize some faces in town. They, of course, all recognize me, though.”  
“I bet. Has anybody told you anything from the night of the abduction?”  
“I just got here this afternoon. So, no.”  
“OK. Alright. Hmmm. Do you know anything from the people here, something that stands out? I don’t know, people with weird habits, or… I don’t know. Something.”  
“Weird habits?”  
“Something. Anything.”  
“Look, agent, I come here, I go in the mountain, I go back home. I don’t socialize a lot. It’s the whole point of coming here.”  
“But you go grab some food in town, you get some gas.”  
“Yeah, but that’s about it.”

Dean shifted in his chair, took a deep breath, pulled on his coat, took another sip of cocoa, put the mug down and looked back at [Y/N]. “Look. I’m an FBI agent. From the United States. Our investigation is ours only, we’re not going to the police with this. We need help for our case back home, and anything you tell me stays with us. It’s alright.”  
[Y/N] looked at Dean. She surveyed his face, gears running. Dean could see she was hesitating. He just calmly waited. She seemed to twitch awake, and said, “OK. But I don’t think it’s got anything to do with your case.” Dean only nodded. She continued. “Last year, when Alan’s parents died, I happened to be in town the weekend of the funeral. So of course I attended. And people thought I was his girlfriend, so I ended up talking to people a bit more than I expected. At some point, though, this man, about the age of Alan’s parents, he came and… well. He made a pass at me.”  
Dean blinked and raised his eyebrows. He expected weird smells, weird sounds, a missing corpse, but not something as mundane as a perv making a pass at a woman who could clearly be his daughter. He quickly composed himself. “And what happened?”  
“Well it didn’t work, that’s what happened. The imbecile kept at it until he managed to corner me and I managed to twist his hand, almost breaking his little finger.”  
Dean, again, raised his eyebrows in surprise, half impressed, half not knowing what to say.  
“What? Men are jerks, so a girl learns to defend herself. I know a couple moves.”  
Dean nodded. “Good call. And, do you know who that man was?”  
[Y/N] pursed her lips. “Alan’s uncle. The one that went missing.”

**

Meanwhile, Sam had gone to the welcoming centre. As he entered, Alan greeted him. “Hey, Mister…” He looked quickly in his book. “Elliott!” Then, with a concerned smile, “Is everything good with the cabin? Anything you need?”  
“We’re good, the cabin is great, thanks.”  
“Super. So, what can I do for you?”  
“Actually, I’m here in my professional capacity.” He showed his badge. “I need to ask you some questions.”  
Alan became serious. “Oh… OK.”  
Sam suggested, “Maybe we can sit?”  
Alan went for the armchair and gestured to the sofa. “Yes, of course, take a seat.”

“So, Mr. Sirois…”  
“Alan. Call me Alan.”  
“OK. Alan, first, I want to offer you our condolences for your parents.”  
“Oh. Yes. Thanks.”  
“And, unfortunately, if I understood this correctly, your last family here, your aunt and uncle, are missing. So I want to ask you: How are you doing?”  
Alan shifted in his seat. “It’s hard. I, um… I feel quite alone, to tell you the truth. I am also a bit worried something is going to happen to me.”  
“Why is that?”  
“All the back luck I guess.”  
Sam nodded empathically. “Well, we’re here to help. If this here links to our investigation back home, we might be able to help find your aunt and uncle, and stop the bad luck. Hopefully.”  
“You have a case like this one back home?”  
“Yeah.”  
“It’s just a missing persons case. I don’t get it.”  
Sam sat up. “I am not at liberty to discuss the case, but let’s just say some details – or lack thereof – somewhat align with one of our cases. We’re just checking in.”  
Alan nodded. “OK. If I can help, I will help. Of course.”  
“Thank you very much.”

Alan nodded to himself. “OK. Well, this doesn’t mean I should let go of good manners. Can I offer you something to drink? Tea, coffee, herbal tea?”  
Sam smiled. “An herbal tea would be great, thanks.”  
Alan went through the door behind the counter and came back a few minutes later with the hot drinks. He handed Sam his herbal tea and sat. “So, what do you need to know?”  
“Did your aunt and uncle have any enemies?”  
“_Enemies_?”  
“I mean, people who would hold a grudge for some reason, maybe some money they owed someone, or an old fight with a neighbour, something.”  
Alan looked in the distance, sipping his tea. “I am… I am sorry, I… I cannot seem to think of anything.”  
“OK. Maybe someone held a grudge against your parents and took it out on your aunt and uncle instead?”  
Alan frowned. “That’s weird.”  
Sam explained. “It happens. Sometimes, the person wants to make the whole family pay. We’ve seen it happen.” He added, as he realized what he’d just said, “Not to add to your distress. We’re here to help.”  
Alan looked at Sam, shaking his head a few times before answering. “Really, not that I know of. I’m sorry.”  
“It’s alright.”  
“But, agent, you have to take into account that I was gone a few years for university. I might have missed something too. Sorry.”  
“It’s OK, it’s OK.” They both drank their tea in silence.

Alan sat up. “You know, maybe… maybe there is something, but it seems ridiculous.”  
“Anything helps, Alan.”  
“Well, it’s my parents’ old neighbours, actually. The guy, Jimmy Lessard, he tends to get back at people for things. One time, the waitress at JayJay’s gave him the wrong change and cut him short $3. I was a kid, but I remember, he said, she is not going to get a tip for the rest of the month.”  
Sam sipped on his tea. “Hmmm… OK.”  
“Also, the year my dad changed the fence between our yards, Jimmy asked that the fence be a nice light gray to go with the brick of his house. But dad had it painted dark gray cause he thought it would go better with both houses. Jimmy said he wouldn’t share the cost of the fence because of that and he never paid dad.”  
“So you think maybe Jimmy has a grudge against your aunt and uncle?”  
“Maybe something happened. I would be surprised, though, cause my uncle was so nice to us and my aunt came to take care of my dad when mom was out for errands. I cannot imagine them being anything but nice to anyone.”  
“I see. Well, thank you for the information – he raised his mug – and thank you for that.”  
“Oh you liked it? I can get you more, I’ll bring it to the cabin.”  
Sam raised his eyebrows and smiled. “Well, thanks for that too. And, if you think about anything else – he gave Alan a card – you can call me or just drop by the cabin.”  
Alan took the card. “Will do. Thanks, agent.”

**

The night had fallen while the brothers were busy with their investigation. Sam bumped into Dean as he was heading back to the cabin. They decided to go grab dinner and come back to recap. The silent ride in the impala to town and back was a nice break from the day.

Back at the cabin, they took the time to get their take-out settled in front of them, and, as Dean was already stuffing his face with fries, Sam started, with a smirk. “So, what you got from the one person that wasn’t here at all?”  
“I got that the uncle was a fucking perv.”  
Sam’s eyebrows shot up. “Didn’t we know that already?”  
“He made a pass at [Y/N] at the funeral of Alan’s parents.”  
“Shit.”  
“Yeah. So, combine that with what we already know, I have a feeling Mr. Guy Sirois might be the kind of man to hit on women quite a bit, leaving jealous husbands and boyfriends in his trail.”  
“That makes sense.”  
“So you agree with me this is a human case.”  
“What?”  
“It’s clearly something along adultery or… well, something like that. Anyway, what did you get?”  
“I got the dirt on the neighbour, Jimmy Lessard.”  
“The guy from this afternoon?”  
“Yep. Seems he’s a real jerk who likes to hold grudges and get revenge. A bit passive-aggressive though, so I wouldn’t put my money on him.”  
“So you do agree with me then.”  
“What?”  
“Whether it’s either a jealous husband or boyfriend, or the jerk neighbour, it’s just a basic kidnapping. Not our kind of stuff.”  
Sam grunted.  
Dean sighed. “Look, there’s nothing weird about this case. And we don’t even have a corpse! Man, we can’t work miracles here! When we have a monster, we have a corpse. It’s that simple. We have somewhere to start. But no corpse – he clicked his tongue – no miracles. No case.”  
Sam didn’t let it go that easily. “Listen. What about you scope the mountain a bit tomorrow for… I don’t know, something… weird, for example. You know, our kind of stuff. And I go talk to Jimmy and Kathleen again just to see if we can find anything else, and if we haven’t found anything, well…”  
“We go to the police and hand them what we know.”  
“Well… Everyone trusted us with their secrets…”  
“Sam.”  
“I guess we can point the police in some direction.”  
“Alright! And then we head back home cause this is a waste of time.” He munched on a few fries. “And fuck it’s cold here.”

There was a knock on the door. Dean got up and opened. It was [Y/N], a bag in hand. Dean stepped aside. “Come in!”  
[Y/N] came in, taking her boots off at the door with her feet. Sam greeted her from the table. She walked up to him, lifted the bag to show that’s the reason she’s here, and set it on the table. She took out the contents as she explained. “Alan said you – jutting her chin towards Sam – liked the herbal tea this afternoon. So he made two and bottled them, and he bottled some fresh orange juice for tomorrow morning as well. He says it’s on the house and that he’s grateful for all the help finding his aunt and uncle.”  
Sam took a bottle in his hand. “Wow, thanks!”  
Dean came by the table and looked at the bottles. “Why didn’t he come himself?”  
“Oh, he’s entering the day’s business in the computer. I happened to need something from the centre, so, you know, thought I’d be nice and help.” She smiled at Sam, then Dean, then nodded and went to the door, putting her boots back on. “So that’s it. Hope you like the tea and o.j. Night!” She looked up from her boots to the boys.  
Sam waved. “Yeah, thanks. Nite!”  
Dean waved and [Y/N] was out the door.

Dean took the bottles to put them in the mini fridge. Sam shook at Dean the bottle he had in his hand. “Gonna drink this one now. It’s still warm.” He uncapped it, and took a sip.  
Dean asked, “What is it really?”  
“Some herbal tea. I had some this afternoon, it’s real good.”  
“Urgh.”  
“You know, Dean, sometimes, you can drink something that’s actually good for you.”  
“I had a very balanced hot cocoa with mini marshmallows this afternoon thank you.”  
Sam rolled his eyes.

The boys sat on their respective bed, with their laptops.  
Dean seemed annoyed. “Dude. Is it me or reception is shit here?”  
“Yeah, Wi-Fi is not optimal. Takes time to load, but you’ll get there.”  
“What are you checking out?”  
“Nothing. I’m writing down notes of what we found out. Maybe something will come to me.” He didn’t bother raising his head when he added, “I suppose you’re trying to check porn.”  
Dean scoffed. “With my brother right next to me? Come on.”  
Sam chuckled. “I wouldn’t put it above you.”  
Dean let his hands fall down by his sides. He slowly turned to Sam. “I’m checking my email. If you really want to know.”  
Sam chuckled again. “Since you’re looking up [Y/N] on Facebook, could you look up the other ones too? We got Guy and Gisele, and Jimmy and Kathleen to check. And Alan.”  
Dean mumbled something along nyeh nyeh nyeh, but got back to typing.

It wasn’t too long before Sam asked, “So, find anything particular?”  
“Nope. Alan’s page is private, and the others just have pictures of their cats, their dogs, their ATV’s, too many sunsets, stuff like that, and way too many stupid fancy posts with quotes and flowers. Blergh.”  
Sam closed his laptop. “OK then. I’m gonna call it a night.”  
“What?”  
“I’m tired, I’m gonna call it a night.”  
“Dude, it’s, like, 7.”  
“Is it? Oh well. Night.”

**Chapter IV – Weather Changes**

Morning came late, the boys not being in any kind of hurry. Dean hit the shower first. He then joined Sam at the table, coffee mug in hand. “This doesn’t taste very good,” Dean remarked.  
“It’s because there was only decaf left.”  
“You’re shitting me.”  
“Nope.”  
Dean grunted his annoyance. “We’ve got to head in town. I need real coffee.”  
“Just get it from Alan. I’m sure he’s got some. Me, I feel well-rested, actually. Gonna switch to the fresh orange juice.”  
“Well you can have mine. I need coffee. Be right back.”  
“I’m gonna hit the shower, then.”

Sam was blow-drying his hair when Dean came back with coffee and food.  
“HEY,” Dean shouted at Sam, who cut the dryer off, “Alan had some food for us. I brought bagels and cream cheese. I thought you’d like to eat some rabbit food too, so I got you an apple.”  
Sam thanked Dean and finished drying his hair. When he came to the table, his bagel was grilled and waiting for him. “Just out of the toaster, dude. Eat up while it’s hot.”  
“Thanks.”  
“Sure. Also, Alan said he’d lend me a skidoo to go check the mountain. It’ll be much faster.”  
“Wow, that’s… super nice. His own snowmobile?”  
“Oh he’s got two. He’s good.”  
Sam chewed on his bagel pensively. “So, if today you find nothing and I get nothing, what, we cancel our second night, grab lunch and leave?”  
Dean beamed. “Yeah! And we go back home, where we don’t freeze our asses the minute we step outside.” Dean wolfed down the rest of his bagel, suddenly very motivated. “I’ll leave you to your orange juice and apple, and I’ll go see Alan for the skidoo.”  
“Alright. I might do a little research before heading out. Got a few things I want to verify.”  
“Your call.”  
“Oh, and Dean, take the big winter coat. Please.”  
Dean rolled his eyes. “Yes, mom.” He also grabbed Sam’s scarf, hat and gloves.  
“Dean!” Sam exclaimed in annoyance, but only to give Dean satisfaction.  
As Dean stepped out triumphantly, Sam smiled, relieved in knowing his brother won’t freeze to death.

Dean went to the welcoming centre and Alan had already taken the snowmobile to the front parking lot. He explained a few things to Dean, made him try out the machine in the parking lot, answered a few questions, gave him a helmet, thanked him for his help in finding his aunt and uncle, and wished him good luck.

Dean took off. He was not used to this type of machine, and it was quite powerful for its size. He pushed it a bit to see how it felt. He took to the trails and opted for the one that went the farthest up the mountain. He found out he enjoyed riding a snowmobile. He kept an eye out for any clue Alan or the police might have missed, because they don’t know to look for them: scratches on trees, some particular tracks. After an hour or so, Dean was almost all the way up. He spotted a little shelter that seemed to be set up as a lookout. He decided to stop and take a break, take a breather out of that helmet.

The view was breathtaking. The mountain range made you feel tiny in the face of eons of geological changes. You could almost feel the Earth’s age, embrace the amount of time it took the crust to rise to such heights. And the snow… It made everything still and quiet. Dean looked around and saw a bench, which had been cleared of snow. He sat a while. Made a point of taking a swig from his flask – of course he’d brought his flask – to enhance the experience. He found a few granola bars in the coat’s pockets. Oh, dear Sam. He ate one granola bar, washing it down with the rest of the whiskey – there wasn’t much left anyway. Not the best combo, but it’ll do. He took the time to really take in the mountains, the snow-covered pine, fir and spruce trees, which were all pretty much Christmas trees to Dean. He even saw an eagle. He tried to find funny shapes in the clouds that were behind the farthest mountain.

Suddenly, a crisp wind picked up. Dean pocketed his flask inside his coat and rearranged his scarf, zipping his coat up tight. He decided to head back, having found nothing anyway. No point in going on all the trails. He knew the one track of footsteps he saw belonged to [Y/N]. She clearly had snowshoes and boy did she have fun going off trail and back.

Dean put his helmet back on, got on the snowmobile, and started it. It spluttered and died. No. No no. He tried again. Nothing. What? He tried again, holding the key turned – not that it did anything. He tried to pull-start it. Nope. The hell? Was the little kill switch up? Yep. He tried a few times more and cursed at this machine for not being Baby, thinking about how Baby never does that kind of crap to him. He turned the key again and looked at the dash. Everything seemed fine. Even enough gas. What? OK, he told himself, I’m a good mechanic. He took his helmet off. He popped the hood up. He looked at the wires and the motor. Everything looked just fine. He pulled at things that could be too loose. They were tight. He tapped some things, swearing under his breath that he was acting like an idiot, nothing gets fixed by being tapped. He tried screwed things. They were tight. Every time he did something, he tried to start the motor again, to no avail. He understood he was not a snowmobile mechanic. Dammit. He slammed the hood back down. He abandoned the snowmobile and started down on foot as the wind brought tiny, hurried snowflakes.

During the first half hour going down the mountain, Dean noticed the snow going from manageable to thick, wet, fluffy clusters falling fast and hard. The wind cut through Dean’s scarf and engulfed in his hoodie, filling interstices with cold and wet. He pressed on. Snow gathered in his eyelashes, the tip of his cheeks felt tingly, and he pressed on. He could sense he was slowly losing feeling in parts of his face and, as a reflex, he grimaced, trying to chase away the rigidity the cold brought on. He already couldn’t really feel his ears. He cursed at himself for not thinking to keep the helmet on; it would have been the best protection. He tried to keep his head low, but he got a new icy whip of wind every few paces as he needed to check his route – which, he knew, he had already lost under the snow. He figured the path must follow the clearing in the trees, so he went down that way. He walked a while.

Peeking up one more time he thought he saw something in the distance, a faint yellow glow. Could it be a house, this far up the mountain? He didn’t have much to lose in his condition, so he walked towards it, seeing there was indeed a few yellow glow spots in the distance. A small house. As a reflex, his hands went to the places where he had weapons, to check if all was in order. It was.

**Chapter V – The Cabin in the Woods**

As he got closer to the house, he saw it was in fact a cabin, much like the ones scattered around the welcoming centre. That meant beds, kitchenette, bathroom, electricity. Oh god. Dean almost moaned at the thought of a hot shower and a cozy bed. He got his gun ready as he walked to the door and looked inside. At one glance, he took it all in: [Y/N] at the stove, putting the kettle on. She was in short sleeves and seemed to be wearing good sportswear. A table, chairs, a mini fridge, a stovetop, a sink, a fire roaring in the back, a couch, a cushioned armchair, a door, probably for the bathroom, judging by the layout. Dean stood dumbfounded as he put his gun back. He remembered [Y/N] had come to hike. She must have been caught by the storm too. Well, let’s not stay out any longer, he told himself, as he knocked. [Y/N] jumped a little as she turned in the direction of the sound.

[Y/N] opened the door. She saw Dean without seeming to recognize him with his scarf covering most of his face and his hoodie down as far as it could go. “Come in!” she said, as she pulled Dean in by the shoulder, closing the door quickly behind him. She turned around, as Dean was pulling off his hoodie and undoing his scarf. She was amused and curious. “Agent Collen? What are you doing here? The FBI like hikes?” Dean glared at [Y/N] briefly as he took his gloves off. She chuckled, jerked her head towards the door. “Bad timing, eh!”

Dean stomped his boots to get rid of the snow. [Y/N] pulled a chair to him. “Here, sit, so you can take your boots off without getting your socks wet.” Dean obliged, threw the boots by the door, then twisted around on his seat to face the table. He rearranged his chair.  
[Y/N] pointed to him. “You’re not taking the coat off?”  
Dean tucked his head into his shoulders. “I’m cold, dammit. GHA!!! Fuck it’s cold! Why do people even live here?”  
[Y/N] shook her head. “The snow’s gonna melt off your coat and wet the floor where you sit. Good god, you don’t know anything about winter?”  
“I know it’s usually not that cold. I’m usually good.”  
“Hah! Welcome to Canada.”

[Y/N] went around the table and swiftly took the coat off Dean and put it on a hook by the door.  
“HEY! My coat!”  
[Y/N] turned to Dean and looked at his shirts. “Are you all wet?”  
Dean pitifully looked at himself. “I had to redo my scarf and snow got in and yeah, a bit here and there, but…”  
[Y/N] cut him. “Take it off.”  
Dean looked up a bit panicked. “What?”  
“Take it all off, or you won’t be able to warm up fast enough.”  
Dean didn’t move, somewhat shaken by the order.  
[Y/N] fetched a blanket from the couch and a shirt. “Come on! Today! I have one of my biggest shirts here for you – she took in his shoulder width – might be a bit tight for you, sorry. And then wrap yourself in this.”  
Dean shyly yet quickly took his flannel and shirt off, way too aware that she was looking at him the whole time.  
She lifted one eyebrow. “Nice tat.”  
Dean frowned and muttered thanks as he put the shirt on – indeed very form-fitting, the short sleeves almost cutting into his biceps – and wrapped himself tightly in the blanket, getting it up around to his ears. He closed his eyes and tucked his head into the blanket. He emerged – just the eyes – and tightened the blanket around himself.

[Y/N] threw Dean’s wet shirts on the back of a chair. She looked at him – a bit too much in detail, Dean thought – and seemed to understand something he didn’t. “You’re not in good shape”, she said, and took him by the upper arm and coaxed him up. “You go sit in that chair,” she added, a hand on his back, lightly directing him to the armchair by the fireplace.  
Dean protested. “Alright, I’m going, I’m going! Geez.”  
[Y/N] softened. “Look. I don’t have time to deal with you possibly getting hypothermia or something. You sit here, and I’ll bring you some coffee.”  
Dean sat, somewhat bewildered, but soon enjoyed being close to the fire. And indeed, being dry also helped a lot – well mostly. His jeans were soaked almost to the knee, but he didn’t dare point it out, in case she made him take them off, too. So, he was mostly dry, but it still helped. He knew all that, the ‘best being dry’ stuff, it’s just, she was a bit too fast for him. And a bit too hands on. Normally, he was all for a woman taking charge, but this time he felt a bit ruffled.

While [Y/N] made the coffee, she asked Dean if his feet were wet – no they were not, just cold. She asked if there were body parts, especially ears, nose, fingers and toes, he couldn’t feel anymore – maybe the ears? She brought him his mug and leaned in close to one side, then the other. “You ears are super red. Lemme.“ She gently put her hands on his ears. Dean winced. Her warmth made his ears feel like little needles prickling and dancing. Thawing ears were no fun.  
She left her hands on his ears until his expression softened a bit. She took her hands off, checked again. “You’ll be fine. Nothing to worry about.”  
“Thanks.”

While Dean doctored his coffee – setting it down to put his warmed-up hands on his ears and sometimes on his cheeks and nose – he watched [Y/N] go to the door, shake his boots and bring them by the fire, on a rack especially made to put the boots on upside-down, so they’d dry and warm up inside. He noticed there was already another pair on the rack – surely hers. She went for the coat, too, which she shook again to get most of the snow and water off. She brought it and hung it on a set of hooks close to the fireplace.

Dean was warm enough now he was able to enjoy watching her walk around. When she hooked his coat, he noticed her shirt lifted up a bit. She had a string of tattoos around her waist. Dean smiled to himself. Something nudged at the back of his brain, but he wrote it off as not having had sexy times in a long while and as being maybe a bit anxious about the probability of getting frisky with her – which he’d gladly welcome, if she wanted. There was this confidence about her that he liked.

He noticed he was now in a way better mood than when she kind of forced him to come sit in this chair. [Y/N] walked away and came back with the scarf, hat, gloves and shirts, which she hooked next to the coat. Dean concentrated on checking out the tattoos – no harm in that. The moment was briefer, but his curiosity was more piqued. He also had an entry point to talk.

“Hey, nice tattoos yourself.”  
As a reflex, [Y/N] pulled down on her shirt.  
“What?”  
“Your tattoos, they’re nice,” Dean repeated, pointing to her waist. “Do they go all the way around?”  
[Y/N] answered without looking at him. “Yeah…”  
Dean nodded. “It’s original for a tramp stamp.”  
[Y/N] glared at him. “Really? That’s your call on my tattoos?”  
Dean backpedaled quickly. “No, I’m sorry. Just a joke. A bad one.” He made a shy, apologetic smile. “I like your tattoos. What is it?”  
[Y/N] waved aimlessly. “Ah, just some artsy fartsy stuff.” She smirked. “Never get tattooed when you’re too much in love and a little bit on drugs.”  
Dean chuckled. “I’ll try and remember that.”  
[Y/N] pointed to Dean’s chest. “And yours?”  
Dean smiled in his mug. “Oh, that’s a long story.”  
“Were you too much in love and a little bit on drugs?”  
Dean’s gaze unfocused. “I wish” he said, maybe too seriously.

Dean drank the last of his coffee. He was looking at [Y/N] passing by him when he completely missed the side table as he set his mug down. The mug fell – didn’t break! – Dean was all arms flailing, missing the mug that rolled a bit, stopping by [Y/N]’s feet. Dean leaned over the chair’s arm, both arms dangling. “Phew!”  
[Y/N] was laughing. “Nice reflexes!” She bent down to pick up the mug.  
Dean caught a glimpse of the tattoos again, and…

Dean’s eyes went wide. “Oh my god.”  
[Y/N] stood up with the mug and turned around.  
“What?”  
He looked up at her, and pointed to her waist. He asked, half serious, half in wonder, “Your tattoos. What are they?”  
[Y/N] frowned and pulled on her shirt again. “I told you, they’re…”  
“Yeah, but. Show me.”  
[Y/N] took a step back. “What??”  
Dean was not having it. He stood up. “Really? You almost took my clothes off yourself earlier. Come on.” He raised his hands in the air. “I’m not gonna touch you. I’m not going to do anything…” he shook his hands, “…jazzy.” He pointed back to her. “Come on. It’s important.”

[Y/N] put the mug down and lifted her shirt just enough to show the tattoos. Dean bent down to see the string of tattoos better. He spoke softly. “Turn.” She obliged. There were about 20 simple drawings tattooed at equal intervals, all different. Circles with various dots or rays, a spiral, a stickman…  
Dean’s surprise only augmented. “You’ve had these how long?”  
“Around 15 years.”  
Dean looked up at [Y/N]. “These are not artsy fartsy things. They mean something.”  
She pulled her shirt down, waiting for him to continue.  
Dean seemed lost in thought. He looked up at her again. “You have one symbol twice. The weird snowflake one.”  
“And?”  
“I don’t know, it’s just weird. Why that specific one? Why twice?” Dean lifted his eyebrows in admiration. “Brilliant, though.”

“But what do they mean?”, [Y/N] asked, picking up the mug again.  
Dean instantly regretted getting so excited about the tattoos. Now he had to explain them, not only to a civilian, but a civilian who had no reason to believe anything he’d say.  
[Y/N] frowned. “You look nervous. Is it dangerous? Am I in danger? Is it some voodoo thing? Oh god. I’m cursed, aren’t I?”  
Dean welcomed the opening. “No, no, no! Not at all! It’s protective symbols. Warding.” He shuffled on his feet. “If you believe in that sort of thing… It’s, um, some kind of protection against monsters.”  
[Y/N] mockingly asked, “All the monsters? Even the ones under my bed? Hopefully the ones under my bed. Cause damn.”  
“Well – aha – no. Just the one.”  
[Y/N]’s mouth lifted slightly. “So, just the wendigo, then.”

**Chapter VI - Scribbles**

Dean felt like all the air had been knocked out of his lungs. He stood transfixed. “What?”  
“The symbols. They’re a warding against wendigos.”  
Dean couldn’t move a muscle. “You… you knew that?”  
[Y/N] didn’t answer this question, but the other one she knew was on his mind. “The ‘weird snowflake’, as you call it, which is for the power of the winter sun, I have it twice because warding against wendigos in this part of the country requires a bit more winter sun juice than usual.” She smiled, turned and went to the kitchen with the mug. She heard Dean mumble, “I need a drink.”

“Well there ain’t none, handsome”, [Y/N] piped up as she was making more coffee. “I’ve got more coffee though, coming right up in a moment.”  
Dean walked up to the counter, leaned against it so he’d be facing [Y/N]. “How do you know about wendigos?”  
[Y/N] kept at her coffee task. “Because I’ve been hunting them.” She stopped and looked up into Dean’s eyes. “For over 15 years now.”  
Dean’s eyebrows went up. “15 years?”  
[Y/N] could see his gears running suddenly. She watched him think.  
“Wait. You’ve had the tattoos 15 years, but hunted wendigos over 15 years.”  
[Y/N] laughed. “Obviously, I couldn’t know they’d be handy before I bumped into my first wendigo. I actually got the idea after my second.”  
“Holy crap how many have you killed?”  
[Y/N] lifted her right shirt sleeve all the way up. There was a very beautiful, artful tattoo made of different unique flames.  
Dean gasped. “It’s beautiful…”  
“It’s one flame per wendigo.”  
Dean’s eyes went wider – if that was even possible. “What?” He tried to count, but [Y/N] saved him the trouble. “There are 12.”  
“12? 12??? How… But… But we rarely even see wendigos!”  
[Y/N] pulled her sleeve back down. “You’re welcome.”

[Y/N] handed a fresh coffee mug to Dean. Dean thanked her and tried for a sip. Too hot.  
[Y/N] asked, “So, how long have you been hunting?”  
Dean looked up at her from blowing on his coffee. “What?”  
[Y/N] turned and leaned against the counter next to Dean. “You’re a hunter. Saw the demon-thing tat. I have it too.”  
Dean unconsciously looked her up and down.  
[Y/N] raised one eyebrow. “No, I’m not showing you. If you want to look at it, look at yours.” She looked at the place on his chest where she knew his tattoo was, her eyes trailing to his arms. She thanked herself for giving him that shirt.  
Dean noticed her trailing her eyes on him and emptied his coffee to keep focused. It was too hot. He didn’t care. He needed to focus.

He set his mug down. “I’ve hunted longer than I can remember. Basically my whole life I guess”, came the answer, pulling [Y/N] out of her short reverie. “My dad was a hunter and he raised us in the life.”  
“Who’s ‘us’?”  
“Oh, my brother, Sam. The other FBI agent. Well, not…”  
[Y/N] chuckled. “Yeah, I get it. I use the SQ or the RCMP thing all the time.”  
“The SQ I know. The other one though…”  
“RCMP. It’s our feds. Royal Canadian Mounted Police.”  
Dean squinted. “Royal? Mounted? I have so many questions.”  
“Well read a book. I’m not a historian.”  
Dean smiled to himself. “Better yet, I’ll ask Sam. That boy knows everything.” He looked at [Y/N], amused, “He’s an actual nerd, you know.”  
“Wow, a nerd hunter. Hah… But aren’t we all a bit? Hunting means a lot of research.”  
“No, no, I’m not kidding. He does research for fun. He likes to know everything about everything. And he’s good with computers, too.”  
“Handy partner.”  
Dean’s simple retort came full of pride. “Yeah, he is…”

Dean’s eyes shot up. “Sam… Shit. I hope he’s not too worried about me.”  
[Y/N] put her mug on the counter and rummaged through her bag. “Well, nothing we can do about it now. But,” and she produced a sharpie, “we have to get you covered.”  
Dean looked at the sharpie and straightened up. “What? Covered?”  
“You need protection. I’ll draw the symbols on you.”  
Dean didn’t move. [Y/N] let out a sigh and her arms fell to her side. “We’re hunting a wendigooooo! My god, we’ve been talking about it for the last hour! Geez!”  
“We’re hunting a wendigo?”  
[Y/N] pursed her lips, a hand on her waist, gesturing with the sharpie. “Why the hell do you think I’m here for?”  
Dean smiled faintly. “Um, vacation? I mean, I thought this was a human kidnapping case.”  
“No it’s not.” [Y/N] pointed to Dean with the sharpie. “Lift the shirt.”  
Dean put his hand in front of him. “Wait. You mean to tell me a wendigo snatched people right by a bonfire? Come on! These things won’t come close to fire, ever!”  
“Well everything else points to a wendigo. No footprints, so it carried the victims up in the trees all the way to its stash.”  
Dean was thinking.  
[Y/N] continued. “You know it’s not really a kidnapping.”  
Dean was still thinking, this time out loud to himself. “Something’s not right.”  
“Maybe, but I know there’s a wendigo in these mountains. And I have to take care of it anyway. So, in the meantime, in case the wendigo is anywhere close, you. need. protection.”  
Dean looked up at her. “Oh. Yeah. OK.” He lifted his shirt, just enough for her to draw the symbols.

[Y/N] tried to be quick and touch Dean as little as possible. His skin seemed so soft, and she was close enough she could smell him. It was very distracting. So she only touched him with the sharpie. The first two symbols looked horrible, but OK enough to work. “Stop twitching!”  
“But it tickles!”  
[Y/N] stopped. She put her hand on his stomach so he wouldn’t be so surprised by the touch. She leaned her writing hand on him as well, helping with stability and preciseness. She drew one, two, three more symbols. Dean was calm. She looked up at him. “Better?”  
Dean answered softly, a bit more under his breath than he himself expected, “Yes, much.”  
[Y/N]’s command came almost a whisper. “Turn…”  
Dean lifted the back of the shirt and turned. [Y/N] wondered why the small of his back made her want to… God, better not think about this, she told herself, there’s a wendigo at large. She concentrated the best she could on drawing the symbols correctly, but her thumb trailed his skin softly. Dean was relieved she couldn’t see him close his eyes and try to keep his breathing even.

“Done!” “Alright!” Dean started to pull the shirt down again, but [Y/N] put her hands on his to stop him. “Wait, it’s not dry.” He crumpled the shirt up a bit, biting his lip. He felt her blow on his skin. She must have been close, cause her breath was warm. Dean looked at the ceiling, praying he can hold it together. He felt a finger press a few times in a spot. It tensed him up in all the wrong – or right – ways. “It’s dry now,” [Y/N] said, as she let Dean go.

“Alright, thanks,” Dean said, as he pulled the shirt down. Damn this thing was tight. He felt naked. He looked at her. Yeah, no, he told himself, keep it together, man. More pressing matters. “So, these are protecting me like you?”  
“Yeah”, [Y/N] answered, as she was putting the sharpie away, “you’re basically invisible to wendigos now.”  
“Really?”  
[Y/N] smiled, proud, “Yeah, it’s a perk of having the symbols right on you. You can sneak up to wendigos way easier.”  
“And these will hold?”  
“Sharpie holds a few days. It’ll take a good scrubbing to get it out. Maybe two showers.”

And now [Y/N] was thinking about Dean in the shower. Great. And now she was thinking about herself scrubbing the symbols off him in the shower. Like she needed to go down that road. Stop it. But now she was thinking about his naked ass right in front of her and… Wow. Stop. She saw Dean was staring at her. Oh, shit. He knew.

Dean asked, “You alright?”  
Phew. He didn’t know. “Yeah, yeah. Sorry. Just thinking.” She bit her lip, looking around. “Do you want another coffee? I’ll make more.”

Good god woman if I take another coffee I’m gonna explode I’m so wired up, thought Dean. But he said, “Sure.” He gave her some space at the counter, choosing to lean on the edge of the table. He crossed his arms, and lost himself in thought as he watched her. He felt his heart beat faster as she shifted her weight to get the sugar and shift her weight back to where she was comfortable. When she stirred, her hips would do this little shake, drawing his attention to her curves.

[Y/N] caught a glimpse of Dean in the window’s reflection. He was almost exactly behind her, but still, she saw enough of his face to see he fixated on her as she moved the slightest bit. She decided to stir the coffee a little longer just to make sure she wasn’t making it up. Yup. She noticed his hand gripping at his bicep tighter as he took in a quick, short breath, breathing out slowly. He bit his bottom lip and looked away.

**Chapter VII – The Plan**

She turned around and gave him his coffee.  
Dean took the smallest sip and asked, “So, what’s the plan?”  
She looked outside as she answered, “We can’t go after a wendigo in a snowstorm. We’re not equipped for that. And I can tell you, if I’m not equipped for that, nobody is.”  
Dean passed his hand on his stomach. “And we can’t be bait.”  
They got lost in their thoughts and then Dean added, “This is shit. I hate this. We can’t just sit here.”  
“We don’t have a choice. Night’s already falling, and although I could go out in the night and face a wendigo, I’m not taking chances with you.”  
“Hey, I’ve killed 2 wendigos. And I’ve been a hunter my whole life. I can hold my own.”  
“I’m sorry Dean, I just don’t know you.”  
“You’ve never heard of me? We’re the freaking Winchesters! My brother and I, we saved the world! Everybody knows that!”  
She cocked her head, squinted a little. “So your name’s not Collen, then.”  
Dean realized he’d just blown the rest of his cover. Oh well. “No. What, do you use your real name when you pass for your royal police?”  
[Y/N] laughed. “Winchester, uh?”  
“Yep. In the flesh.”  
“Why, I have heard of you.”  
Dean beamed. “See! You know me!”  
“Yeah. You’re… something.”  
Dean became serious. “Wait. What have you heard?”  
“You saved my ex from a vampire nest he took on by himself. Well, he didn’t know the whole nest would be there, so yeah, you guys came in and saved him and then killed all the vampires. You’re pretty badass. He wouldn’t shut up about it.”  
Dean’s expression became somber. “I remember that. Did he… did he tell you how we almost came in too late?”  
“Yeah. The vampire cure. You’ll have to give me the recipe.”  
Dean said it was simple and told her, she took her phone out and wrote it down.

“So, now that you know who I am, what’s the plan?”  
“We have to wait the storm out, that’s for sure. So a couple hours still to wait. Then, since last night was a full moon, tonight is going to be a really clear night as well. The storm passed, we’ll see almost as good as a cloudy day.”  
Dean nodded. “OK. Alright. So that’s good. And then we have to find the wendigo’s cave.”  
[Y/N] smiled. “My, you do know about wendigos!”  
Dean looked at her flatly.  
She smiled at him. “Yes. And would you believe I know these parts pretty well and I have made a map in the summer of spots and nooks and even small caves where a wendigo might stash its food? Cause this hunter here is good,” she said, pointing at herself.  
Dean nodded. “And you checked a few out. I saw prints going off the path and back while I was scoping the mountain.”  
“Oh, you’re the skidoo I heard earlier.”  
“Busted.”  
“But you walked here. Where’s your skidoo?”  
“Up the damn mountain. When the wind started blowing, I decided to head back but the damn thing didn’t start. It’s broken or something and I didn’t know how to repair it. It’s still up there.”  
“Shit.”  
“Yeah.”  
“We’ll have to tell Alan. After the wendigo.”  
“Yeah.”  
[Y/N] came back to the wendigo problem. “So, um, yeah, I checked the spots closer to town but the storm got me before I could go and check one last spot.”  
“And that’s it? You’ll have checked every spot?”  
“No, but the two others are a bit far and small, so my bet is on this one, cause it’s roomy and not easy to get to. So, a really good spot for a wendigo.”  
Dean nodded. “Hm.”

Dean went to the rack by the fire to check on his shirt. Still wet. He turned and flopped onto the couch. “Something still doesn’t compute.”  
[Y/N] came and sat at the other end, turned to face him. “What? Don’t tell me you’re still not sure it’s a wendigo.”  
“I don’t know. Probably.”  
They both sat in silence for a few minutes.  
“Man, I wish Sammy was here. Or that I was back at the bunker with all the books.” He chuckled. “Never thought I’d say that.” He looked up and saw a perplexed [Y/N].  
“The bunker?”  
“Ah, yes. We live in this pre-war era bunker thing built by a secret society. It’s super neat.”

As they sat there, Dean told her about the bunker, the Men of Letters and how Sam and him were legacies. [Y/N] told Dean how she started to hunt wendigos after a winter camping trip that really didn’t go as planned. She didn’t get into details but Dean understood she’d lost friends that day. Then they broke the sad, heavy silence by talking about hunts and things they’d learned along the way.

All this time, they both knew the other was mulling over the question as to why the wendigo had taken two victims in conditions that it would never face normally.  
Dean was the first to come back to the subject. “It doesn’t make sense. Guy and Gisele were taken at the bonfire. Wendigos never come close to a fire.”  
[Y/N] looked annoyed. “Hey. Wendigo expert here. I know that. But it happened anyway. So.”  
“You really believe that?”  
“We might have a wendigo that evolved.”  
Dean pressed on. “Not a fire that big, it doesn’t make sense. Why would a wendigo risk it? There were other people coming and going, people on paths, people just leaving their houses to come to the party, people leaving early, surely some kids hiding around the corner to smoke… all those easy victims, why take two people right by the fire? There is motive behind this.”  
She wrinkled her nose. “And wendigos don’t have motives. They have instinct. Survival instinct. Get food, don’t get dead. Period.”  
Dean sat up. “But that’s just it! Survival instinct! That means do not get right by the fire!” He shook his head. “Wow. I’m turning into Sam.”  
[Y/N] crossed her arms. “You know, I don’t really care as to why the wendigo got those two. I find the wendigo, kill it, and save the people that can be saved. Problem solved. I don’t need motive.”  
Dean chewed on his bottom lip. “Yeah.”  
“Are you going to help me or not?”  
Dean kept chewing on his lip. “Yeah… yeah, of course.” He looked up at [Y/N]. “You’re right. Let’s just find and kill this son of a bitch. No need to dig deeper, we’ll get the job done anyway.”  
“Super. Case closed. Two hunters, one wendigo.” She looked outside, and at her watch. It was 5 p.m. “So, you hungry?”  
Dean beamed at her. “Oh YES!”  
[Y/N] chuckled. “Alright, let’s see what this cabin has.”

It didn’t have much, but it had macaroni, canned tomatoes, and canned red beans.  
When Dean sat to eat, he said, “that’s a bit weird.”  
“It’s nourishing. Just add salt and pepper if you’re not happy.”  
“I just wish I could add some cheese.”  
“Man, you’re handsome but you can be so annoying.”  
Dean choked on his food.  
[Y/N] laughed silently into her plate.

After dinner, after cleaning up, after making yet more coffee, they sat on the couch.  
“So we just wait?”  
“We have to wait the storm out,” [Y/N] answered. She got up and peeked out the window. “There’s still a bit of wind, but by the time we finish our coffee and get ready, it’ll be fine.”  
“[Y/N]?”  
She came back and flopped on the sofa. “Yeah?”  
Dean passed a hand around his tummy. “What kind of marker did you use for the symbols? It’s kind of itching a bit.” He lifted his shirt to have a look.  
[Y/N] let out a surprised “Hah!”  
Dean looked up at her. “What?”  
“Wow, you’re super sensitive, cause it’s super faint.”  
“…what now?”  
“The symbols, they act as protection, so when a wendigo is near, there is energy linking the symbols that works its magic. You’re feeling that energy now.”  
Dean’s eyes widened. “The wendigo is here?”  
[Y/N] laughed. “Oh no!” Her gaze became unfocused, “tingling this light, it’s probably about 5 kilometres away.”  
“5 kilometres.”  
She saw he had no idea what that meant. “It’s far for us if we set out to find it. On an open road, it’s about 45 minutes. In the forest, more like an hour. In the forest in the winter after a snowstorm, two hours. But, as you know, wendigos are fast and adapted to this weather. So, it could be here in 10 minutes.”  
Dean shot up from the couch. “Fuck! Forget coffee! We have to be ready!”  
[Y/N] chuckled. “Dean. Pay attention to the tingling. It’s almost nothing for now. You’ll feel it when it’s getting closer. Also, remember, it doesn’t know we’re here.”  
Dean pointed to the fire. “We made a fire! It _knows_.”  
[Y/N] pursed her lips. “Shit. You’re right.”  
“So? So!!!”  
“So nothing! It’s the _smell_ of fire. You know, the thing it doesn’t come close to?”  
Dean opened his arms in disbelief. “Yes, like the big ass bonfire on New Year’s?”  
[Y/N] slapped her thighs and got up. “Urgh. OK, you win. Let’s get ready – and pay attention to the feeling the symbols give you.” As [Y/N] got around the sofa, she noticed Dean was trailing his hand around his midriff again, and he was smiling. “What? You like the tingling?”  
Dean looked up at her, his smile broader. “This shit is actually cool. It’s super cool. I wish I had a demon detector.”  
“Demons are pretty straightforward, though.”  
Dean pouted. “Yeah, there’s that. Stupid demons.”

**Chapter VIII – The Cave**

Dean got his own clothes back on now that they were finally dry. He had started to take off the shirt [Y/N] had lent him, but she had stopped him. A little because she didn’t need to see him without a shirt right now, and mostly because “it’ll help you keep warm, it’s a technical shirt.” Dean happily kept it and layered his other shirts over it.

They cleaned up the place, put the fire out, packed all their things – Dean had nothing, so that was fast – dressed up – Dean was not equipped for this hike and [Y/N] had to get creative with what she could spare – and stepped outside.  
Dean took a moment to feel the cold. “This is going to suck big time.”  
[Y/N] put on her snowshoes. When she stepped into the snow, she sunk a bit. “Oh yeah. You will hate this.”  
Dean tried to put on the old decorative wooden snowshoes that were hung up in the cabin. After a few curses and some help, he was standing beside [Y/N] in the snow, sunken in a bit too. “Oh yeah. Big time.”

“So, what direction should we take?”  
[Y/N] closed her eyes. “The tingling is a bit stronger.”  
Dean concentrated on the tingling. “Yeah, it is.”  
[Y/N] opened her eyes again. “OK, that means the wendigo’s on the move. From where, we can’t tell. But the cave I was talking about is that way. So let’s walk that way and pay attention to any change in the sensation.”  
Dean gestured towards the direction they were heading to. “After you.”  
[Y/N] chuckled. “Obviously.”

Dean fell flat on his face only twice, which was, according to [Y/N], very good. They fell into a steady rhythm and, after 10 minutes, [Y/N] stopped.  
Dean looked around. He whispered, “What’s wrong?”  
[Y/N] took a second before answering, “I’m just feeling the symbols. The wendigo’s getting closer. But not fast.”  
Dean tried to concentrate on his sensations. “I don’t feel any different.”  
[Y/N] turned around. “The first time, it’s harder to feel the subtle differences. After a few wendigos, you get used to tiny changes.”  
Dean raised his eyebrows. “After _a few_ wendigos.”  
[Y/N] smirked, turned, and started walking again.

“Are we there yet?”, Dean asked, amused with himself.  
“10 more minutes, tops.”  
“Wait… that’s it? Wouldn’t the wendigo have been found already, that close? I mean, people love checking out caves all the time.”  
“No, and you’ll see why.”

The terrain became, quite frankly, dangerous. It was extremely steep and [Y/N] told Dean to walk very slowly, making sure his foot was secure with his whole weight before moving the other. They had to hold onto trees to help themselves up. Once at the top, [Y/N] pointed down to the entrance of the cave and Dean understood. The entrance was on the other side of the steep terrain, and you had to jump down a good 10 feet to access the entrance.

Dean whispered, “How are we gonna do this? I’m good with jumping this, but hauling people back up?” He shook his head questioningly at [Y/N].  
She winked at him as she took her backpack off and rummaged in it, producing a rope ladder.  
Dean was as surprised as he was impressed. “A ladder. You have a fucking ladder in your bag. A whole ladder.”  
[Y/N] smiled. “A lady is always prepared for any situation.”  
“Yeah, I noticed the flares in your bag last night.”  
“That, and I knew I was coming to this cave.”  
Dean made impressed noises. “Girl, you’re giving me hunter boner. Seriously.”  
[Y/N] had to stifle a full-on laugh.  
Dean let out a few laughy breaths.

They left their snowshoes up at the top and climbed down. Standing in front of the cave, they turned their flashlights on.  
“Now, Dean, do you feel the symbols?”  
“Yeah, a bit.”  
“That means it’s coming towards us.”  
“Oh, fun. And I just realized I agreed to hunt down a wendigo at night. Why.”  
“Because you trust the expert.”  
“OK then. What does the expert have to say about the fact that the wendigo will most certainly catch us either here or out there in the woods?”  
“Oh, it’s gonna catch us here.”  
“ARE YOU-“ Dean took a deep breath. “Are you kidding me? What, you want it to get us?”  
“Just trust me. It’s perfect.”  
Dean mocked-repeated under his breath “nyust frust me…”  
“Come on. Let’s find the pantry.”  
“THE P-“ Dean huffed.  
[Y/N] laughed in her scarf.  
Dean huffed again. “They’re people, [Y/N], _people_.”  
“Yeah, yeah, people are friends, not food, I get it.”  
Dean stopped. He raised his arms in defeat and let them fall to his sides. He started after [Y/N] again.

The cave was pretty simple. There was one corridor, which was a tunnel winding a bit and leading to an opening. The opening was just far enough it felt less cold than outside. They quickly found the wendigo’s victims. They were all unconscious and tied up on the ground. [Y/N] shone her flashlight on the heap of bodies.  
Dean asked, “Is that Guy and Gisele?”  
“Yes, but, Dean… I count 3.”  
Dean got closer. “Sam!!! The fuck is Sam doing here?” He ran to his brother, kneeled beside him, took his head in his hands. “Sam! Sam! Wake up!” He slapped him. “Sam! Fucking wendigo I’m gonna kill you so dead! Sam!” He took his gloves off and felt his neck for a pulse. He had a pulse, but Sam was cold. He turned to [Y/N], who was cutting the rope tying up the two other people. “[Y/N]! He’s cold. Is he too cold? Come check.”  
[Y/N] didn’t leave Gisele, as she was trying to wake her up and she was cutting her and Guy’s ties. “Dean, they’re all in hypothermia by this point. Especially these two, they’ve been here three days.”

Sam stirred. “Sam! Are you alright? Sam! Talk to me! I’m here, Sam, I’m right here. Come on.”  
Sam blinked. “Dean?”  
“Yeah. It’s me. Sam, I’m gonna cut your ropes. Just a second.” Dean got a knife out and cut Sam loose. “Sam, what happened? The hell you doing here?”  
Sam sat up. He rubbed his eyes. “Where am I?”  
“You’re in a cave. The wendigo brought you here. What happened?”  
Sam blinked again, sat up straighter. He looked ahead while trying to remember. “Um, you left to go see Alan for the snowmobile and I finished eating...” He jerked his head. “The orange juice.”  
“What? The orange juice? What?”  
“I did a quick search on the laptop while drinking one bottle and then I drank the other in one go. I put on my coat and boots to go out, and then… nothing.” He turned to Dean and whispered, “The juice was spiked.”

[Y/N] was not having any success with Guy and Gisele. “Sam, try to wake them up please.”  
“Sure! Of course.”  
“Dean, you come with me, we have some prep to do. Sam – she extended her hand to him, a flashlight in hand – here, take this.”  
Sam took the flashlight. “Thanks.” Sam seemed to finally take in that [Y/N] was with them. He looked between her and Dean. “What…”  
Dean understood his brother had questions, a lot of them. “Sam, it’s OK, she’s a hunter.”  
Sam turned to [Y/N]. “What?”  
Dean added, “Yeah, I’ll tell you later.”  
[Y/N] added, “Yeah, cause we gotta prep stuff. The wendigo is coming.”  
Sam’s eyes went wide. “What???”  
Dean looked at [Y/N]. “Right now? I don’t feel…”  
[Y/N] cut him. “No, but we gotta prep! Come on!”  
Dean gesticulated that he had to follow [Y/N]. “It’s fine, she’s an expert. I’ll tell you later.”  
“Um, OK.”  
“OK.” And Dean turned to follow [Y/N].

[Y/N] was a few metres from the entrance, just before the tunnel starts winding. Her bag was on the floor and she had taken out a few things, including a few Ziplocs filled with what looked like black soot or soil. “Here, empty these in a thick line across the tunnel right here. I’m going to do the same over there, closer to where Sam and the others are. Then we’ll make a line along both walls to join the two.” She nodded at Dean, who nodded back. She went into the tunnel, emptying a bag along the wall as she walked.

Dean did as told and then stood up, looking around. He absentmindedly looked at the entrance and the walls. He shot his flashlight around, surveying the tunnel. He squinted. There was something on the wall. He heard [Y/N] coming back, emptying her bag of black soil along the other wall.  
“Hey, [Y/N], come look at this.”  
[Y/N] came and stood by Dean, looking at the wall. “What the…” She trailed her flashlight along the wall at the same level. “Here, another one. What…”  
Dean ventured, “I suppose that means you’ve never seen this before.”  
[Y/N] was focused on the symbols glowing. “Never. The hell?”  
Dean trotted away into the cave.  
[Y/N] called, “Where you going?”  
“To get Sam!”

When he got to Sam, Sam was explaining to Guy and Gisele that they had been kidnapped and to please stay calm, that they had something to take care of before they left the cave.  
“Sam!”  
“Dean!”  
“We found some symbols along the walls, come have a look.”

[Y/N], Dean and Sam were looking at the symbols with their flashlights.  
Sam nodded pensively. “Yep. I recognize this symbol here, used in summoning. Um, this one here, it’s for control. This one…” He didn’t have time to finish his sentence before the symbols started glowing.

They all stepped back and looked around. [Y/N] and Dean both turned to each other, touching their midriff as a reflex, and both went “Shit.”  
Sam didn’t understand. “What’s going on?”  
[Y/N] and Dean looked a bit panicked.  
Sam understood. “It’s coming. That’s what.”  
[Y/N] turned to Sam. “Yeah.”  
Dean added, “And fast.”  
They looked at the glowing symbols.  
Sam said, “These must control the wendigo or call to him. Something.” He looked at the symbols glowing and added, “This is brilliant, actually.”  
Dean barked, “Not the time, Sam.” He turned to [Y/N]. “What now?”  
[Y/N] took a deep breath and smiled a devious smile. “Now? Now it’s time for the expert to take over this mission.”

They all ran to the back and waited. Per [Y/N]’s instructions, they put Guy and Gisele behind along the back wall, with Sam and Dean in front of them. She gave Dean a flare gun with a few flares, because he insisted on it in spite of her telling him it won’t be necessary. She made him promise to not use it unless she told him to. She gave Sam an apology for not having a weapon for him.  
“It’s nice that I have time to prepare,” [Y/N] said, as she took off her tuque, her mittens, her scarf, and her coat. She folded them and put them on her bag in a corner. She stood in front of everyone, her back turned to them, closer to the line she set on the ground. She was holding a tiny bottle with herbs in her left hand. “All set.” Dean and Sam exchanged puzzled glances. She turned her head to look at Dean. “Do you feel it?”, she asked with a smile.  
Dean realized his symbols were more buzzing than tingling. “Yes. It’s different. And more intense.”  
“He’s close,” she said, as she turned back to face the tunnel.  
Sam looked from [Y/N] to Dean. “What?”  
Dean explained, “She drew symbols of protection on me. We can feel the wendigo approaching.”  
Sam’s body slumped. “Ah, come on! You have all the cool stuff.”  
Dean smiled at his brother. “Yeah! That’s pretty cool actually.”  
[Y/N] shook a hand at them behind her back. “Shhhh. It’s coming.”

Everybody stood still. They heard breathing and light walking. Wendigos were, by definition, very stealthy in spite of being quite big creatures. Without turning, [Y/N] pointed to Dean to get ready. Dean crouched by the line of black soil on the ground that went all the way to the setup in the tunnel, his lighter on. A few moments more of silence and [Y/N] pointed twice to Dean. Dean lighted the line. As the fire ran along the wall and lit up a line a metre in front of [Y/N] and ran along the walls of the tunnel, they heard a scream.

[Y/N] spoke loudly. “He’s stuck inside the fire.” Indeed, they saw a freakishly tall human figure emerge right behind the line of fire in front of them. It was emaciated, pale, had extremely long arms and long, pointy fingers. It was so tall it had to bend quite a bit to walk through the tunnel. It showed its long, sharp teeth and made a sound between a snarl and a scream, bowing down to threaten the humans. Dean couldn’t help but scream, “It’s the biggest I’ve ever seen!” [Y/N] snorted. “Welcome to the North!” She then turned her head around to look at Dean and Sam, who had enquiring looks, and at a horrified Guy and Gisele behind them. She cocked an eyebrow and smiled. “Showtime!”

[Y/N] popped the cork of the bottle. Under the cork was a tiny piece of sharpened bone. [Y/N] cut the inside of her hand with the bone and, in her blood, poured some herbs. She put the cork back on, stowed the bottle in a pocket, clasped her hands together and chanted something in a language the boys had never heard. “Iskotew. Kwahkosiw. Misikwâhkotew. Âhkwastew. Iskotew!” As she said the last word, [Y/N] became engulfed in a big flame. “Iskotew!” The flame became more intense. She turned again to the boys, whose eyes couldn’t be wider, their mouths open. “Told ya.” She winked. “Now watch.”

[Y/N] ran, lunged through the line of fire and tackled the angry, screaming wendigo before it understood what was going on. The brothers couldn’t help but get a little closer to see the action. Dean had his flare gun ready. What they saw was not what they expected. [Y/N] was wrapped around the wendigo like a koala and shouting “Iskotew! Iskotew!”, which made the flames coming from her even more intense. The screams of the wendigo resounded in the cave one last time and [Y/N] quickly stepped aside as the wendigo burned to ashes. [Y/N] stepped back on the boy’s side of the line of fire. They backed up a few paces. She smiled at them, licked the herbs and blood from her hand and said, “Âstaweham.” The fire subsided and [Y/N] was a normal human again. She mixed the rest of the herbs in a bottle of water, scraped a little blood that was still in her hand and added it to the mix. She shook the bottle then splashed the line of fire. “Âstaweham.” All the fire was put out at once. She turned around and declared, reaching for her coat and winter gear, “There you go. Dead and done. About time, too. The smoke was coming down on us.”

Dean and Sam were stunned. They kept looking [Y/N] up and down, as if it would help them take in what just happened.  
Sam spoke first. “That is… the coolest thing I’ve seen in a long time.”  
“Thanks!” She turned to Dean. “How’s your hunter boner now?”  
Dean seemed to wake up from a trance. “What? …ah! Yes. Very. Holy crap.”  
Sam looked at Dean. “Hunter boner?”  
Dean waved him away. “You had to be there.”  
Sam retorted, “I’m sure I’d rather not.”

**Chapter IX – The Rescued and the Charged**

[Y/N] walked to Guy and Gisele. “Come on, let’s get you out of here. You need to get inside and get help for your hypothermia. For the dehydration – she fetched a fresh bottle of water from her bag – have this for now.” Guy and Gisele, still very stunned from everything that happened, thanked [Y/N] and downed the shared bottle.  
Dean asked, “can’t you fire up to warm them? Cause wow, that’s super useful.”  
“And super draining. If I do another spell, I probably won’t make it to the cabin.” She thought a moment. “Look, the snow’s a bitch, and you three don’t have snowshoes. I’ll go back to the cabin, call Alan and he’ll come pick you up with a skidoo.”  
Dean and Sam raised their hands in panic. “No!”  
[Y/N] looked to one then the other. “What? Why?”  
Sam explained, “I got drugged this morning. I woke up here. We’re pretty sure the orange juice Alan gave us was spiked.”  
“What?”  
Dean continued, “And if I had taken one of the bottles, I’d have woken up here too.”  
[Y/N] took a moment. “That means I’d have had to save 4 people.”  
Dean pursed his lips, which accentuated his dimples. “Not the point, [Y/N].”  
“Yeah, you’re right, sorry.”  
Sam said, “So, we just all head back, no calling Alan.”  
[Y/N] agreed. “Dean and I will beat down a path as best as we can so it’s not too hard for you to follow us.

The walk back to the cabin was tiresome for Sam, Guy and Gisele, but they made it. Dean got a fire going again and got a few blankets for Guy and Gisele. Sam got a kettle on and [Y/N] got on the phone. When she hung up, everyone was cozied up on the couch and chairs, steaming mugs in their hands. She took the mug Sam handed her. “I talked to a Mr. Martin at the station, they’re sending skidoos to pick us up. I had to make up some story but it’ll work. Told him about Alan too. He was really disappointed.”  
Sam put a hand on [Y/N]’s shoulder. “I’m sorry.”  
[Y/N] put her hand on Sam’s. “Yeah.”

[Y/N] and Sam sat with the others. [Y/N] pointed out, “It’s going to take about an hour for the police to get here.” Everyone sipped their coffees. [Y/N] sat back and looked at Guy and Gisele, but mostly Guy. “Tell me. Why on Earth would Alan want to kidnap his own uncle and aunt?”  
Before Guy or Gisele could talk, Dean pointed to Guy. “Wait. [Y/N], isn’t he the guy from the funeral?”  
[Y/N] calmly answered, “Yes. But I want to know why Alan would want to harm him. Or them, in fact. I don’t get it.”  
Sam said, “From the funeral?”  
[Y/N] answered, “Mister here made a pass at me last year at Alan’s parents’ funeral. I declined.”  
Gisele got an arm out of her blanket and punched her husband’s shoulder. “Asshole! You really can’t keep it in your pants!”  
Guy shied away. “It was just for fun, dear. I didn’t mean it! I swear!”  
Gisele wouldn’t have it. “Like you didn’t mean all those times with Christine? I bet the boy knew. I can’t believe your stupid cock has dragged me in this hell! Fuck you!”  
Everyone looked at Guy and Gisele in silence. Gisele had retracted into her blanket, turned around to face the fire, and drank her coffee. “I’m divorcing your pervert ass by the way.”  
“Gisele… sweetokums…”  
Gisele snapped around and glared at her soon to be ex-husband. He shut up and rearranged his blanket.

[Y/N] was the first one to speak up. “Well, that’s settled then. Alan must have known.”  
Guy spoke while looking into his mug. “I still wonder what the hell was that thing that attacked us up there in the mountain. How can someone burn that fast?”  
Gisele turned and she and Guy saw [Y/N], Sam and Dean sighing, grunting, and looking at each other like nobody wanted to answer the question.  
Guy pressed on. “Look. I know what I saw. It was… something else. The hell was that?”  
Dean looked to Sam. Sam shook his head. Dean turned to [Y/N]. “Hey, your turf, your call.”  
[Y/N] rolled her eyes. “Alright.”

Sam and Dean thought it was pretty neat how she explained wendigos were real, but denied all the other creatures existed. “It’s like telling you about this illness you didn’t know about. Or, that we found Bigfoot. It doesn’t make unicorns real. Or Santa.”  
Dean leaned closer to [Y/N]. “I’m pretty sure Santa is real. I mean, have you looked around? I bet his house is, like, down the road from here.”  
[Y/N] gave him a flat look. Dean gave her a sweet smile. She didn’t budge. Dean retreated with a slight pout, catching Sam’s flat look.

The rest of the time waiting for the police to come and get them was a bit of a weird ambiance, but important questions were raised. If Alan knew about Guy sleeping with his mother, why act only now, why send a wendigo after him – that seemed excessive – and why drag Gisele into this?

Not too soon, the police arrived on snowmobiles and took everyone down the mountain. The moon made the snow seem blue, contrasting with the yellow-white effect from the snowmobile’s headlights. When they arrived in the parking lot, Alan was sitting in the welcoming centre with an agent. Gisele asked to see him. Ed Martin refused. “Come on, Ed. I want to know why he dragged me into this. I was always nice to him, to his family. This doesn’t make sense.”  
“You need care, Gisele, we have to take you to a hospital.”  
“Seriously, Ed? I’ve walked half an hour in the snow, waited an hour in the cabin, it took another hour to get down here and I’m still alive. Two minutes, Ed. It won’t kill me.”

They all went into the welcoming centre. Alan was handcuffed and sitting on the couch. The agent was leaning on the counter. “Hey Ed.”  
“Hey Ben.”  
“What’s with the crowd?”  
Ed gestured to Gisele. “She’s got questions for Alan.”  
Alan looked up. His face got red, his eyes merely slits. He addressed Guy. “You. Get out of my face. Bastard.” He looked at Gisele. “You too, you piece of useless crap.”  
Guy raised a hand. “Look, I’m sorry about your mother, but Gisele…”  
Alan cut him. “My mother? If it was only that! What about my father? What about both of them? Eh? What about your fucking piece of shit assface being the reason they’re dead!”  
Everyone looked at everyone in surprise. Ed Martin spoke. “This is a serious accusation, Alan.”  
“Yeah well I’m dead serious. Why do you think my parents were out by themselves that day? Because my mom refused to sleep with you again so you decided they’d be on their own. You knew my mother had to go for groceries that day, you knew she’d have to deal with my father alone, you knew the weather was shit, nobody was out that day, you knew she’d go, you knew you were putting them in danger. They’re dead because of you! You fucking asshole!”  
Ed Martin spoke. “That’s not exactly how murder works, Alan.”  
Alan wasn’t listening. He had tears streaming down his face from the anger. He looked at Gisele. ”And you! You knew. You knew what was going on, and you did nothing. You could have done something, anything! But you just shut the fuck up and let it all happen. Fuck you too.”  
Ed Martin had had enough. “OK. That’s it. Ben, take him in the car.”

Guy and Gisele were taken to the nearest hospital for hypothermia and dehydration care. Alan was sitting in the police car when someone knocked on the window. It was [Y/N], asking him from outside if she can come in and talk. Alan nodded.

“Alan, I’m sorry about all this.”  
Alan was calmer. “Yeah. For the good it does.”  
“Alan, I need to ask you something.”  
“What…”  
“The wendigo. How did you control it?”  
Alan’s eyes went wide. “You know about the wendigo?”  
“How do you think we got Guy and Gisele out? We had to kill it.”  
“That explains why I lost control over it. I thought I’d just done something wrong, cause that thing is almost unkillable.”  
“So you knew when you gave me that gun it would be useless.”  
Alan looked at his feet. “I even put blanks in it so nobody gets shot by mistake.” He thought a moment. “Why did you take it if you knew it was useless?”  
“Because it seemed important to you.”  
They fell silent a moment and Alan asked, “How did you guys kill it?”  
“Me. It was me. I killed it.”  
“What?”  
“I know how to kill those things, it’s not the first time.”  
Alan had his mouth open.  
“Alan, I need to know how you controlled it. There might be other people out there doing the same, I need to be prepared.”  
Alan’s eyes were still wide. “You need to be prepared? Why?”  
“Because it’s what I do.”  
“You kill wendigos?”  
[Y/N] nodded, and waited for Alan to take it in.  
There was a hint of hopeful pride when he asked, “Was my wendigo hard to kill?”  
“Normal. Actually, a bit easier than normal. The cave was pretty straightforward and I had time to prepare.”  
Alan looked outside, shaking his head. “I can’t believe I had a stupid lame-ass wendigo. No wonder this didn’t work.”  
[Y/N] touched Alan’s shoulder. “Alan. No wendigo is lame. Those are very dangerous creatures.”  
Alan looked at [Y/N]. “If you say so. It still got killed by a girl.”  
[Y/N] felt her cheeks burn a little. She wanted to put him in his place but decided against it. “Alan. Just tell me how you did it. It could save people. It could even save my own life.” She knew that was what she needed to say.  
Alan softened and looked down. “I have a book someone gave me in uni last year. It’s in the welcoming centre.”  
“Thanks. This helps a lot.”  
“Yeah.” He added, “The police are going to search the place but they won’t find it. They’ll find the drugs I used in the drinks, but not the book.”  
“Where is it then?”  
Alan told her where the book was.  
She squeezed his shoulder as a thanks. “I’m sorry you fucked up, Alan.”  
Alan shrugged. “It’s alright. It won’t hold in court. I have alibis the night of the kidnapping so they can’t prove anything. They can’t talk about the wendigo in court. I’ll probably just get some time or community service for the drugs they’ll find. As for spiking the drinks, that’s the American dudes, and I’d be surprised they’d press charges, so probably nothing. I’ll be out in no time.” He looked up at [Y/N] from under his eyebrows. “Sorry [Y/N]. The system can’t keep me. No proof.”  
“You confessed in front of all of us.”  
“Not sure it’s admissible in court.”  
[Y/N] straightened in the seat, and turned to face Alan properly. “Then, Alan, I must tell you that this _girl_ here will keep an eye on you. You better never fuck up again.” She let that sink in and added, “I have the means to take care of you.”  
Alan seemed to instantly regret telling [Y/N] everything. She said nothing else and knocked on the window for the police officer to open the door.

**Chapter X – When All Is Said and Done**

[Y/N] walked to the boys, who were talking to Ed Martin in the parking lot, by another police car, the one with the trailer for the snowmobiles.  
“What now, officer?”, Dean was asking.  
“Now, I thank you for solving this case and we’ll take it from here. Alan is taken in, and I guess Guy and Gisele are getting a divorce.”  
[Y/N] joined in. “Oh they are. That’s been settled in the cabin while we were waiting for you.”  
Ed Martin nodded. “Well, it’s almost 10 p.m. I gotta head back.” He pointed to the welcoming centre, “By the way, that building is closed now. You can stay in the cabins, but we have to search the premises, so we locked the place and put a sign.” He nodded at Sam and Dean. “You agents know what that means, and – he turned to [Y/N] – you, the agents will tell me if you go in. We’re all good?” Sam, Dean, and [Y/N] nodded and talked over each other, agreeing. “Good. Oh, and, don’t go too far, I’d like to talk to you tomorrow.” Again, nods, yes, no problem sir, of course.

The three figures stood in the night as they watched the last taillights fade in the distance. A moment passed, and [Y/N] said, “We have to break into the centre.”  
None of the three figures moved.  
Dean asked, “Who’s got their lockpick on them?”  
[Y/N] and Sam both answered, “Me.”  
Dean asked again, “What are we looking for?”  
[Y/N] answered, “The book Alan used to do witchcraft on the wendigo.”  
The tallest figure turned and walked briskly to the centre. The other two figures turned and followed.

Once inside, [Y/N] started closing the blinds and the curtains. “I don’t want a policeman to drive by and see the flashlight going around.” The boys helped her.  
“Man, it’s pitch black,” Dean said, as he got his flashlight out. “What are we looking for?”  
“You, nothing,” [Y/N] answered as she was already heading to the room adjacent to the front desk. “I know where it is. Just keep an eye out for someone coming.” Dean’s shoulders slumped and he turned to a window.

It took only a minute and some rummaging noises. “Got it!” She appeared with a small book.  
Sam frowned. “That’s it?”  
“Yeah.”  
He extended a hand, she gave him the book. He leafed through it loosely, stopping on one or two pages. He spoke with awe. “This is a book only on wendigos. Everything’s in here.”  
Dean chuckled. “Congrats, [Y/N], you’ve excited Sam, now.” Sam made a flat face at Dean.  
Dean nudged his head towards a window. “Come on, nerd, we gotta put things the way they were, blinds and curtains.”

They went back to the boys’ cabin. Dean told Sam how [Y/N] has a wendigo warding tattoo that’s magic and he made her show off the tattoo made up of flames. He said [Y/N] was never cold, and how she can orient herself in the freaking forest at night – nevermind the full moon, that’s impressive, period. Sam and [Y/N] were listening to him with a smirk on their faces – Sam because he knew what was going on, and [Y/N] because she was amused by what was going on. Dean even showed the sharpie symbols on his tummy to an impressed Sam and explained how they felt tingly when a wendigo was coming near.

When Dean calmed down a bit, Sam asked [Y/N], showing her a page in the book, “That incantation you said, is it this one?”  
[Y/N] glanced at the book. “Yep.”  
“What language is that?”  
“It’s Cree. Here, wendigos have been a thing long before Latin even existed. For best results, you need incantations in the language of the land.”  
Sam tried to read the incantation out loud.  
[Y/N] laughed. “You need Cree lessons. This wouldn’t work.”  
Sam wasn’t so sure. “We do incantations in all sorts of languages and our accent is… Well, Dean’s accent is shit.”  
Dean snapped up. “What? Hey!”  
Sam continued, “And it still works.”  
[Y/N] shook her head. “Not this one, believe me. You need better Cree than that.”  
Sam was disappointed. “Anyway, what does it say?”  
“Something along: ‘Fire. She or he is burning. A raging fire. It’s burning hot.’ And then for good measure I add another ‘Fire’ at the end, really does the trick for a strong fire.”  
Sam thanked her for the explanation, asked if he could keep the book to take notes, promising to give it back before they left. [Y/N] agreed and headed back to her cabin.

**Chapter XI – Night Snack**

Dean looked at his watch. 10 p.m. “Sam, do you feel like pizza? Cause I’m gonna hope that place in town is still open. I’m seriously hungry.”  
Sam was deep in the book. “Myeah. Bring some good coffee, too.”  
“Cool. Regular or spiked up?”  
Sam just answered “Ah. Ah.” as he turned a page.  
Dean headed out and made a stop at [Y/N]’s cabin to ask her if she wanted some food. She agreed and wished Dean luck, cause it was pretty late to find a place that was still open around here.

Fortunately for Dean, JayJay’s was still open. People had gathered there, talking about the snowmobile rescue, those poor Guy and Gisele who almost froze to death, and Alan, who nobody could imagine why the police had arrested him.  
As Dean stepped in, someone said “Hey, it’s one of the police guys from the States!”  
Someone else asked, “Hey, what happened?”  
Dean was quick to slip in his FBI persona. “Through good detective work with the local police, we managed to find where the victims had been taken and we rescued them.”  
“Why is Alan in prison?”  
“I am not at liberty to discuss any details. Just know that you’re all safe.”  
The crowd seemed somewhat satisfied with Dean’s statement. He was soon out the door with two pizzas and a coffee. One more stop and he was headed back.

Of course, Dean had something on his mind. He dropped a (medium) pizza and coffee for Sam and told him he’s off to bring [Y/N] some pizza. Sam saw Dean had a large pizza in hand, and a 6-pack carton he found somewhere.  
Dean lifted the beer. “Would you like a few beers, though?”  
“I’m good with the coffee, thanks.”  
“So, are you super busy with your book?”  
Sam answered, “Yes, quite.”  
“So, um, I’m gonna eat with [Y/N] instead, then. Give you and the book some quiet time.”  
Sam just sighed. “Yes, Dean, and thanks for the pizza.”  
“No problem.”

When [Y/N] opened the door, she laughed. “Wow. A whole large pizza!” She took the pizza off Dean’s hands as she closed the door behind him.  
He put the beer on the table. “And beer!”  
She got plates and utensils out. “Smells heavenly.”

After pizza, [Y/N] opened two new beers. “Come, the sofa’s comfy.” She dimmed the lights, started a fire, flopped on the sofa and threw a blanket over herself.  
Dean seemed surprised. “You’re cold?”  
[Y/N] smiled. “Nope. It’s just for comfort.” She kept her eyes on the fire catching, and she lifted the blanket on Dean’s side. “Want in?” Dean sat closer to [Y/N] and got the blanket over himself too, a hand out holding his beer, just like her. Damn, the blanket was soft.

While they quietly drank their beer, Dean had the hardest time knowing what to do with his hand under the blanket, since she didn’t seem to be trying to scoot closer to him. That meant he was also sitting a bit stiff, trying not to invade her space too much.  
He tried to make small talk. “You know, I’ve worked with hunters before, but you’re a notch above the pool. Quite a bit actually.”  
“Why, thank you.”  
“For someone who only kills wendigos.”  
[Y/N] didn’t flinch. “Oh I’m sure you’re a good hunter too. Just too bad you weren’t in your element, I would have loved to see some of your skills.”  
“Hey. I’m one of the best. Me and Sammy? We can take care of anything. And I mean anything. I once took a whole vampire nest by myself.” Dean didn’t think it was important to mention he had the mark of Cain at the time.  
“Impressive.”  
“I sure hope so. Ever killed a vamp? Those are nasty sons of bitches. You gotta get up real close.”  
“Yes, because the way I kill wendigos isn’t real close at all.” She softly bumped his shoulder with hers, a smirk on her lips.  
She was right. That shut Dean up a second. When he talked again, it was almost a whisper. “Fuck you’re badass.”  
[Y/N] emptied the last of her beer and put the bottle down by the sofa. She looked at Dean. “Thanks.”  
He emptied his beer and put the bottle down. He looked at her. Her eyes were making his brain go blank. He started babbling things he’d said before. “It’s true. You’re tough in the cold, and you’re resourceful, and you’re prepared for everything, and you have these magical tattoos, and your fire spell is just awesome, and…” Her lips were on his. It took him the shortest second to go from surprise to leaning into it.

The first kisses were unsure. As Dean realized he was really kissing her, he became impatient. [Y/N] broke off. “Hey. What’s the hurry?” Dean didn’t know what was the hurry. There was no hurry. He started to speak but she put a finger on his lips. “Shhh…” She kissed him again. Her kisses were slow and searching. He could feel her press herself against him, closer, harder. Dean caught fire again and responded with his mouth, his tongue, his hands.

Between Dean trying not to go too fast and [Y/N] really setting him on fire, they made love on the couch, slow enough to not fall off. Dean finally found out that her demon anti-possession tattoo was simply on her other shoulder.

After their lovemaking, [Y/N] laid on top of Dean as he pulled the soft blanket over them. She cuddled into Dean’s arms. “That was quite the hunter boner.”  
Dean chuckled against her skin as he was softly planting a little kiss here and there. He then laid back and looked at her shoulder. He traced the flames with his thumb and said, “So I guess you’ll get another tattoo.”  
“Yep. Number 13.”  
“You superstitious?”  
“No… If anything, it feels lucky.”  
“Why?”  
“Cause I met you.”  
Dean wrapped his arms tighter around her, nuzzled along the hairline behind her ear. “Feeling lucky myself. I just wish this was possible.”  
“Dean, I know what a hunter’s life is. What does ‘possible’ mean? At the very least, I wouldn’t mind bumping into you again.”  
“Mmm… me too…” Her body was soft and warm. He wouldn’t mind at all. “So what colour will this flame be?”  
“Green…” She craned her neck to look at him. “Some specific shade of green. Something to remember whose help I got on this hunt.”  
“And there I thought it would be to remember – he twitched his hips against hers – something else from this someone.”  
She chuckled and kissed him. He caught her lips and didn’t let go for a moment, kissing her slowly again. They snuggled under the blanket and fell asleep, waking up at a weird hour, transferring to the bed and making love another time before falling asleep for the night.

When Dean woke up, the bed was empty. He sat up straight in the bed, worried. [Y/N] was in the kitchen area, her hair still a little wet, apparently finishing up on packing.  
His voice came hoarse. “You going?”  
She looked up at Dean. Sleepy eyes, hair sticking out in every direction. “Oh, good morning. You were sleeping so deeply, I didn’t dare wake you.”  
Dean blinked, still half asleep. “You going?”  
“Yeah. I have to meet with Ed Martin, remember? You have to do that too. You and Sam. Statements, and stuff. Also, gonna go get my book back from Sam before I leave.”  
Dean smacked his lips a few times, rubbed his eyes. He made a sound between a whine and a grunt.  
[Y/N] was tying up something. “Look, you have time to get up, get ready before Ed needs you at the station. My statement will take a moment.”  
“Mmm.”  
She crossed the cabin, sat on the bed. Dean looked at her with his big, green eyes, still not fully awake. She showed him a folded piece of paper. “Here. That’s my number. Keep in touch, I’ll be working on a translated incantation for Sam. OK?”  
Dean took the paper. “OK.”  
She cupped his jaw with one hand and kissed him, trailing her hand down a little. “And I’ll see you sometime. OK?”  
Dean would have smiled if he had had any amount of coffee in him. He caught her hand on his chest and kept it against him a moment. “OK.”

When Sam and Dean got to the station, [Y/N] was gone. Sam saw Dean search the parking lot and then gaze down as he turned the ignition off. Sam knew better than to say anything.

The statements were done quickly enough. The boys learned that the police had recovered the snowmobile Alan had given Dean and that Alan had tampered with it so Dean wouldn’t know it was out of gas. Before the morning was over, the brothers were back on the road headed home, some food stashed in the cooler to avoid wasting time stopping to eat. Sam knew better than to ask Dean why he was in such a hurry to get home.

A few weeks passed and then one day Dean appeared in the kitchen with a little box from the post office. Sam asked what that was.  
Dean was smiling. “It’s a package from [Y/N].”  
Sam was amused, seeing Dean try to not smile too much. Dean set the box’s contents on the table. Jars of herbs, a small plastic bag with what seemed like bone splinters, and a letter addressed to Sam, and one to Dean.  
Sam said, reading his letter, “Those are the things we need for the incantation. And she gave me a translation that works. She said she’ll try it on the next wendigo and will keep us posted.”  
Dean said “Cool”, already engrossed in his letter.  
Sam watched him from the corner of his eye. “So?”  
Dean licked his lips. “Um. Nothing particular. I’m, um…” He read a little more before folding the letter neatly and shoving it in his pocket. “I’m gonna finish this later.”

Sam knew better than to press on about the letter, and he had the feeling they’d cross the border again for some very ‘important’ case in Canada.

**Author's Note:**

> About the Cree incantation.  
I did my best with the online dictionary I used. If you speak Cree and find what I wrote makes no sense or you feel the need to rectify it, by all means, leave a comment or message me on tumblr [@cloverhighfive](https://cloverhighfive.tumblr.com/). I will rectify it gladly.
> 
> [Speaking of tumblr, this fic is also available over there.](https://cloverhighfivewritestoo.tumblr.com/post/189925832797/a-slim-case-and-snowy-mountains)
> 
> ***
> 
> Thanks for reading! :D If you liked it, kudos are like hugs for writers! And if you feel like commenting, I'll answer back! :) Have a nice day/night/timeless travel!


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